


Containing Multitudes

by avoidfilledwithcelluloid



Series: death note short fic collections [2]
Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Death Note: Another Note
Genre: And Eventually Other Wild Things, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, F/F, F/M, Lizard/Light is in this biz now babeyyyy, M/M, Phone Sex, Takada is a lesbian and thinks lesbian thoughts, This Collection Includes:, Trans Male Character, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Uncomfortable Pining for A Dead Man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-10-18 00:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 23,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidfilledwithcelluloid/pseuds/avoidfilledwithcelluloid
Summary: These are the multi-pairing short fics I've posted on my tumblr, collected here for easier reading and because I want double the attention as usual. Some are explicit, some aren't but they're all good and fun to read when you need something different.(❁´‿`❁)*✲ﾟ*(8/25/19 Update: #21 kiyomi's mind wanders during a forced kiss with misa)





	1. rem/misa "how is my wife more badass than me?"

**Author's Note:**

> human!rem tries to wake up her girlfriend misa to go on a morning jog.

A shadow fell over Misa, whose eyes  were still closed, and lingered there. She shifted but refused to move.

“Hey.” Rem pushed at her shoulder. “Misa. Wake up.”

“Mm.” Cracking one eye open, Misa regarded Rem with a wary gaze. “What’s going on?”

“It’s seven,” Rem said. “You need to get out of bed.”

Misa huffed and rolled over, taking the rest of the covers with her until she was just a bundle of fabric. Stupid Rem, trying to disturb her beauty sleep. As she thought all sorts of mean thoughts, Rem sat on the bed and the mattress dipped under her weight. One big hand grasped Misa’s shoulder and shook her again.

“You can’t sleep forever.” Misa hummed in disagreement. “Hey. You promised.”

The tentative and gentle tone of Rem’s voice drew her out from her burrow. With her fingers wrapped around the edge of the comforter, Misa peeked over it to look at her wife. Dressed in her old grey field hockey team hoodie and a pair of tapered black sweats, she sat with legs crossed and her hand still on Misa’s arm.

“You promised you’d go on a run with me,” Rem said.

“Aw, c’mon,” Misa said. “Can’t I sleep in just a teensy bit longer?” She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart to indicate how small the amount of time she wanted to sleep was. Rem threw her head back and laughed, a deep and throaty noise that made Misa’s heart skip.

“Get up.” She stood and stretched out to her full height. Her hoodie rode up on her waist so Misa had a full view of her lean hips. God, she married someone fit. “You can whine about it to me while we run.”

“I’m only going to jog,” Misa called out after Rem, who was already out of their room. She settled back into the covers and thought about running. Her lip curled. Why did Rem always want to do athletic things together?

“Whatever you want,” Rem yelled back. “But you’re still going to be moving.”

Misa dragged herself into the only exercise clothes she owned and hopped down the hallway still tying her shoe. In the living room, Rem stopped adjusting her eyepatch and looked at Misa. A wide grin broke over her face.

“What?” Misa patted herself down with frantic hands. “Do I have something stuck to me? These pants have too much static. Everything is going to stick to me!”

“No. There’s nothing stuck to you,” Rem said. “You just look cute.”

Pink flushed over Misa’s cheeks and she put her hands on her hips, staring at the ground.

“Well,” she said. “I guess. If you say so.”

Outside, the air was weighed down by the previous night’s rain. Rem hopped from one foot to the other while Misa fiddled with the toggles on her jacket. Her hair, still a little sleep-greasy, was up in a ponytail with her bangs clipped out of her face. She stretched one leg out and leaned into a lunge. It was way too cold to be outside, let alone outside running.

“Are you ready?” Rem leaned over and squeezed Misa’s hand.

“Huh?” She blinked and received an exasperated sigh in response. “Oh, right, right. Yeah, I’m ready. Don’t go too fast, okay?”

“Of course not.”

After two blocks, Misa’s muscles protested. Even at the light jogging pace Rem was clearly struggling to take in order to suit Misa, she still felt like dying. Maybe she needed to get out more often. With how active Rem was, she should be going to the gym all the time with her wife and doing couples workouts. Her face went dreamy at the thought. A couples workout–now that would be romantic! A little fantasy played out in her head of she and Rem doing crunches together wearing matching gym clothes which almost eased the strain of her jogging. Almost.

As they neared a mile, Misa was ready to die. Her legs hurt, her arms hurt and sweat slicked her hair to her face. So unattractive. Meanwhile, Rem looked strong against the grey morning as she took long confident strides. The swish of her short hair cut across her cheeks and Misa almost tripped just staring at her wife’s face.

“Rem,” she whined. “Running is so hard!”

“It’s worth it,” Rem said. “You’ll feel great once we’re done.”

“What? We’re not done yet?”

The time had come for drastic measures. Misa wobbled on her feet, letting a little sway into her step and then dropped to the ground. Huffing out a weak breath, she groaned.

“Misa.” Rem dropped to one knee and turned her over. “Are you alright?”

 _Alright_ , Misa thought.  _Gotta really sell this. C’mon, Amane. You can do this._

“Oh.” She threw her hand over her face. “I feel so weak. My head is spinning.”

A hand covered her’s and pushed it away so her face was open. Wincing, Misa scrunched up her features into a mask of pain. For God’s sake, this had to work. She couldn’t take another minute of jogging. And judging by Rem’s face, she wouldn’t have to.

“Oh no.” Rem’s expression pulled downward in worry. She brushed her fingers through Misa’s hair and leaned over her. “Do you really feel ill?”

“Yeah,” Misa said. “I feel just awful. You’ll probably have to carry me home.”

She was pushing it, she knew. The few seconds of silence after she spoke were some of the longest of Misa’s life and then Rem slipped her arms under her torso. She lifted her up so Misa’s head was cushioned by her bicep.

“Is this okay?” she asked. “You’re not too dizzy, are you?”

“No.” Misa settled into the comfort of her wife’s arms. “You’re so strong, you know that?”

“Mm-hm.”

“How is my wife more badass than me?” Her voice came out whiny but she didn’t mean it like that. Sometimes Misa was just floored that she had someone as solid as Rem who loved her.

“Because your wife actually goes on runs,” Rem said. “And doesn’t pretend to faint halfway through.”

“Hey!“ Misa screeched and slapped Rem on the chest. “I’m not pretending!”

The gentle friction beneath Misa’s head as Rem walked was soothing. Through the clouds, the sun started to show and she squinted up into it’s yellow light. Above her, Rem talked about how she was going to do some work on their kitchen today since they were in the process of remodeling it. Another little fantasy started up in Misa’s head about Rem working under the sink and getting all sweaty.

 _That’ll be nice_ , she thought.  _I’ll try to be awake for that._


	2. light/matsuda “Holy shit! That thing is huge.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> matsuda takes light to a bar

Whatever song was playing at the club, Matsuda didn’t know it. Usually, he knew every song that came on and could sing the words from memory. After the past few weeks with the Kira case, though, he hadn’t gotten the chance to out so he wasn’t as up to date. Still, the beat thumped in the background as people around him swayed against each other.

Beside him, Light played with a cocktail saber. His expression wavered between bored and amused. Matsuda rubbed the back of his head and grinned as apologetically as he could.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s taking them forever with your drink.”

“That’s alright.” Light took the little saber and twirled it between his fingers. A pleasant smile painted itself on his face. “I didn’t really know what I was ordering, to be honest. I just said the first thing that I saw.”

“Oh! I do that all the time.” Matsuda waved his hand. “Sometimes it’s just too hard to choose, you know?”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Light turned his smile toward Matsuda and a jolt of excitement went through him. Something on his lips promised exclusive treatment, promised that Matsuda was the only person he wanted to see right then. If that were true, he didn’t know and part of him didn’t want to know. Caught off guard by this look, Matsuda made a noise between a cough and a laugh.

As he struggled to sound human, the bartender came by with Light’s drink. She set it down in front of him with both hands and winked.

“Good luck,” she said.

“Holy shit!” Matsuda goggled at the drink. “That thing is huge.”

Filled near to the brim with blue alcohol, the tall cocktail glass reflected the club lights on its glassy surface. There were chunks of pineapple, cherry and orange speared through with a large kebab stick leaning against the rim. Matsuda’s eyes swung from the large drink back to Light, whose mouth hung just a centimeter ajar.

“I didn’t,” he started. “I had no idea.”

“Geez,” Matsuda said. “I guess you get what you pay for.”

Light looked at him, eyes wide, and stepped a little closer.

“You have to help me drink this,” he said. “There’s no way I can finish it myself.”

Matsuda glanced down at his own drink, a plastic cup of rum and Coke, and then back at Light’s drink. God but that was a lot of alcohol. He gave a nervous chuckle and leaned back on the bar. Light took another step toward him, now a few inches away from his shoulder. One hand grasped the bar and he leaned over into Matsuda’s space.

“Please.”

His voice was soft, the way it sounded when he talked to Misa on the phone. From this vantage point, Matsuda could see the neat line of Light’s nose and the easy curve of his mouth. His neck was wrapped in the black collar of his turtleneck which clung to his slim figure in such a way that Matsuda wondered if Light ever ate. All his body was sharp angles. Under his own shirt, a quick heat spread within Matsuda’s chest.

“Hey.” Matsuda waved at the bartender. “Can we get two straws?”

A half hour later, Light pulled the kebab stick out the empty glass and shakily held it out to Matsuda. The pineapple was stained blue and dripped onto the bar. A ripe red flush colored his cheeks.

“Here,” he said. “Take a bite.”

“Oh.” Matsuda pinched the pineapple piece between two fingers and slid it off the kebab. “Okay.”

A sweet flavor burst in his mouth as he ate the fruit and Light watched him, eyes heavy and bright. He took the cherry but instead of removing it from the kebab, he bit into it. With his white teeth luminous under the black light, he ripped the cherry off. It smacked against his lips and smeared some of the alcoholic residue on them.

“Do you feel okay?” Matsuda leaned toward Light. The other man blinked, still chewing on his cherry. The drink started to build a dizziness in the back of his head but Matsuda imagined Light was worse off. After all, he drank often and Light didn’t.

“I’m fine,” Light said. He put the kebab back in the glass. “Don’t want the orange. I’ve never liked oranges.”

His head swiveled back to Matsuda and he reached out a hand, clutching the fabric of his shirt. He dragged him in closer and his breath smelled heavily of flavored vodka. Whipped cream, if Matsuda’s nose was correct.

“I don’t like this song.” Light grinned and it was a knife disguised as an invitation. “Let’s go back to mine, okay?”

The dark of the club and the thrum of the music blurred Matsuda’s thoughts as he tried to process what Light said. Go back to his? With the sweetness of liquor still haunting the both of them and the way Light still leaned to the side, still clutched at him? Under all that lurked something desperate that he couldn’t make heads or tails of.

But he was so warm and the night was young. Near them a couple of girls were laughing and one of them spilled their drink. Light’s smile started to lose its corners and softened into something smaller. When Matsuda looked into his eyes, he saw wheels turning and they worried him.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s go.”


	3. light/beyond "Nettle- cruelty"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> light gives beyond a bad haircut

Water drips off the faucet and hits the floor of the empty bathtub. Beyond crouches inside the tub with hands rubbing through his hair. It brushes the collar of his shirt when he turns to look at Light, who holds his scissors in one hand and a towel in the other. Quiet blankets them both.

“You need to sit up straight,” Light says. “Or this is going to look really bad.”

“It’ll look bad either way.” Fingers jammed in his mouth, Beyond chews mercilessly on a hangnail. He rips it off and a little bead of blood wells up. “You’re not a hair stylist or anything.”

“You asked me to do this.” A note of exasperation colors Light’s tone. He kneels at the side of the tub and leans over Beyond. Metal scissors shine ugly in the florescent light of their apartment bathroom. It is their apartment now. At least, it’s Light’s apartment. Beyond just likes to call it theirs. “Don’t complain.”

“Hm.”

Light takes a hunk of hair in his hand and snips it off. Another chunk is shorn and then another until the tub’s floor is hidden by tufts of black hair. Beyond’s brown roots start to show, faded but still visible. He hasn’t dyed his hair in months. When a strand of hair falls on his lashes, he rubs his eye with the back of his hand. Black eye makeup smears on his skin and Beyond regrets putting it on. There’s no one around to impress; there’s only Light.

“You look different,” Light says midway through the haircut. His voice is curious, almost choked. “You don’t look like L anymore. That’s for sure.”

Beyond’s hands go tight on his knees. With every snip, he grows farther from him and that tall shadow becomes smaller. L is a memory on his face, on his body. A sickness spreads through him with rapid excitement. Not fair that a haircut pulls L away from him but Light gets to wear his name like a lion’s pelt. Nails cut into Beyond’s jeans and poison drips from his tongue.

“I guess that means you don’t want to have sex with me anymore.” He turns his head, looks Light in the eye and sees the red letters jumble above his head. Such little time left. “Since you can’t pretend it’s him doing it.”

“Shut up.” Knives jut out of Light’s voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When he fucked you, was it good? Better than me?” Beyond drawls and then winces as Light pulls his hair, snapping scissors across the strands. His heart grows harder.

“I told you to shut up.” Light jabs the scissors through Beyond’s hair. His movements are flashes  and he’s cutting close to the scalp. “Just shut up.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Finger to his mouth, Beyond chews on a nail around a widening grin. “He never did have sex with you. I bet you wish he did. I bet you wish he would have fucked the Kira right out of you.”

At first, he registers the pain as Light pulling his hair. But it funnels into a wider, more encompassing spark of pain all emanating from a single point on his scalp. A hand comes up, pats the place where the pain started, and he looks up to see Light’s fingers touched by blood. Beyond puts his own hand on the wound and feels around it. It isn’t huge but it feels deep. Maybe deep enough for stitches. Loose strands of hair get caught in the sticky blood and scratch on his fingers.

Numbers dance on fire above Light’s head as he stares at the scissors now wet and red. His expression is one of uncertainty and then, cruelty. He rubs his fingers together with a snake’s smile. Under harsh bathroom lights, Light’s skin is bright and Beyond’s heart beats a skip too fast. If he were the loving type, he would call the way he feels affection. But he knows better and all the flames in his chest are meant to destroy.

“I told you to shut up,” Light says. There’s a little beast behind his eyes. Beyond stares the creature down but can’t make it slink away. Light has been feeding it since he was born and it’s strong. It ate L and if Beyond lets it lure him into its jaws, he’ll be eaten too. “Look at all this blood. I guess we’ll have to shave it now. Won’t you look ugly?”

“Sweet talker.” Beyond grins with his teeth on display, all white and all hard set.

“I’ll get my clippers.” Light holds his hand still and blinks, almost like he forgot what he was saying. “My sewing kit. Yeah, I’ll grab that too.”

He starts to get up but Beyond stops him with a hand on his arm. Reaching up, he touches two fingers to his wound and holds them out, slick and metallic red.

“Lick it,” he says. Light’s lips curl but he doesn’t leave. Instead, he leans forward and slips his tongue over Beyond’s fingers. His mouth sinks over top of them and for a moment, Beyond thinks of jamming them to the back of his throat. Let the bastard choke on his cruelty, on his bad behavior. Instead, he crooks them so they rub against Light’s tongue.

When Light pulls back, a string of spit connects him to Beyond’s fingers and there’s no more blood on them. His breathing is heavy.

“What would he think,” Beyond says, “if he could see you now? Do you think he’d love you like you love him?”

“Would he love you?” Light asks. Silence hangs between them. Neither of them want to hear the answer, even though both questions have the same one. The plink of water distracts Beyond just enough so his body doesn’t riot. His shirt is thin. It’s so cold in this bathroom.


	4. beyond/light "Try to keep quiet... we wouldn't want to be caught"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beyond fingers light while he's on the phone with his dad

Light tugged on the hem of his turtleneck and looked at his reflection. In the background, Beyond puttered around the bedroom picking things up and putting them away. He was an unusually fastidious man for how ill kept his appearance was. In the full length mirror, his figure moved like a wind-up toy around the dresser drawers and queen sized bed. Sheets tumbled off in avalanches of cotton as a reminder of their previous activity.  

“Are you done?” Beyond swiveled his head toward Light. Under his eyes were thick slaps of black eyeliner melting into teardrops. “Light’s taking forever to get dressed.”

“Almost,” he said. “I just need to find the right belt for these jeans.”

“You don’t need a belt for those.” After a dismissive hand wave, Beyond set down the errant pair of sock he held and walked to the mirror. A bright spike ran through Light’s skin as a warm palm pressed against the small of his back and pushed him half an inch forward. It moved in slow circles as he watched Beyond tuck his head into Light’s shoulder. Soft brown roots faded into his black dyed hair styled into a flutter of all too familiar peaks.

“Listen,” Light said. “I know how to dress myself.”

“In a sense.” Beyond dropped a kiss to the juncture between Light’s neck and shoulder. “But we don’t have to have that argument.”

“It’s not an argument if I’m right.” A gasp cut through him as Beyond slipped a hand over his stomach. His fingers brushed right at the button of Light’s jeans and popped it open. “You’re really trying my patience right now.”

“Hm.” Beyond pulled Light’s zipper down and exposed the thin skin above his crotch. “Are you still wet?”

“What?” Dark red spread over Light’s cheeks. He grabbed Beyond by the wrist and pulled his hand away from his pants. “Don’t ask that.”

“We just had sex.” A pointed grin creeped up Beyond’s face as he looked at Light in the mirror. He kissed one flushed cheek. “I bet you are. Do you want to come again?”

“I—,” Light stopped and then lowered Beyond’s hand back down. “Yes.”

Without any response, Beyond slid his hand past the waistband of Light’s briefs and cupped his cunt. One finger slipped past his lips and rubbed his clit. Spirals sparked off in Light’s stomach at the contact and a moan fell out of him. The finger reached further and pressed into him.

“See?” A little laugh, hoarse and almost artificial, crackled from Beyond. “You were wet. Can’t help it, can you?”

“I can.” Reedy even to his own ears, Light choked on his voice. He shut his eyes only to have Beyond bite him on the shoulder. “Ow. What’s that for?”

“Open them.” Beyond worked his thumb over Light’s clit as another hitched sound tumbled out. “I want you to see yourself get fingered.”

“I see it all the time.” Light blinked and stared in the mirror. His face was pink and his mouth a wet smear. The waist of his jeans bunched at his hips and all that was visible was Beyond’s arm rocking back and forth. Fabric covered his hand but Light saw its movements outlined and shadowed. “It is my body, isn’t it?”

Beyond opened his mouth to respond but the ringing of Light’s phone cut him off. Both of them froze as a bright tune buzzed inside his right jean pocket. His eyes darted to Beyond’s face and widened at the smile he saw.

“Pick it up,” Beyond said. “Answer it.”

Slipping his hand into the pocket, Light retrieved his phone. His hand shook as he pressed it to his ear and the shaking worsened when his father’s voice rattled out.

“Light!” Beyond moved the hand from his back and gripped Light’s hip, pushing him forward onto his fingers. “You’re late. Your mother and I expected you at dinner fifteen minutes ago.”

“I—I know, Dad.” Light sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and wrapped his fingers around Beyond’s wrist. “I was b—busy.”

“Are you alright?”

“Try to keep quiet.” Mouth slotted against Light’s ear, Beyond spoke in a deep voice. It was filled with ghosts. “We wouldn’t want to get caught.”

He sped up his pace and Light stifled a groan only to have scraps of it filter through his clenched teeth.

“You sound like you’re hurt.” Concern in his father’s voice stopped the aroused sounds in Light’s throat. Imagining his father’s worried face, his mother twisting her hands in her lap, made the excitement in his gut start to dampen and he wriggled under Beyond’s hands. “Did you fall on something? If you’re hurt, you should stay home. Stay safe.”

“No.” Light regimented his voice, feeling it loosen as Beyond pressed a third finger in. “It’s nothing to worry about. I—I’m just out of b—breath from a quick run. It t—took longer than I thought. See you guys soon.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

He stuttered out a good bye, snapped the phone shut and tossed it behind him. With the hand wrapped around Beyond’s wrist, he pumped the man’s hand harder into his cunt and reached back to twist his fingers in his shining dark hair. Light shut his eyes. He pretended.

“Oh fuck.” His breath was hot on his tongue. “Fuck. Ryuzaki. Please.”

“No.” Beyond pulled his hand out. “Say my name. You’re supposed to say  _my_ name.”

“I’ll say what I want.” Light wrestled the hand into his pants again and hitched his hips into its press. “Don’t you want this? Don’t you want to be him?”

“He’s dead.”

Light exhaled as fingers slid back against his clit. His grip tightened on Beyond’s hair and he tugged his face close. When he spoke, he did so right against Beyond’s mouth.

“He doesn’t have to be,” he said. “Not if I don’t want him to be.”


	5. namikawa/light "Swallow it. All of it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> light attempts to seduce namikawa for the investigation

Namikawa put him up in a nice hotel room—the kind with whipped cream sheets and framed abstract art. On the bed, Light shifted his weight so he could lay on his side while, in his ear, Matsuda asked him if the bed was as soft as it looked.

“Don’t talk about bedding to Light while he’s on reconnaissance.” L’s voice cut Matsuda off. The harshness layered into it made even Light wince. Thin sweater riding up on his hip, he wiggled a little to build up some heat. Cold air swathed around him like an unwelcome blanket. “He needs to focus. Now, if you remember the plan, Light, please tap your finger to your mouth.”

As Light followed L’s order, the door creaked and Light sat up to face Namikawa. In his hands, he carried a tray of fruit. A bottle of wine sat tucked between his side and arm. Shoulders broad and pointed, his suit gave away his narrow waist and looked expensive. Everything about Namikawa yelled expensive. But Light’s mission wasn’t to estimate his wealth—not fully, anyway. His task was to pull as much information about Yotsuba’s dealings as he could through a little casual flirting. With a task force speaking in his ear, Light charmed his way up to a penthouse suite with the business man.

“There you are.” Namikawa’s eyes lit upon Light’s body and narrowed in on the strip of skin above his jeans. “Right where I left you.”

“Here I am.” Crossing his legs, Light settled his elbows onto his knees and twined his fingers together. He balanced his chin on them with a small smile cutting up his mouth. “Did you expect me to be anywhere else?”

“I thought maybe you’d left.” The bed whispered its strain as Namikawa sat on the edge. He put the tray toward the center and took the bottle in two hands. “Would you like a drink?”

“Be careful.” Matsuda piped up in Light’s ear piece. “He could be trying to drug you.”

“Namikawa wouldn’t drug his potential sexual partner.” Light could hear L rolling his eyes and imagined him crouched on his computer chair. Hands curled on his knees and a spoon of something sweet in his mouth, L would have his attention tuned to every noise made through the speaker. “He’s too confident in his abilities. Go ahead and take the drink.”

Light tried to stifle the frown that surfaced as L bossed him around. He could make his own decisions. Oblivious to Light’s expression, Namikawa popped the cork from the wine and offered the bottle. Tenatively, Light wrapped his hand around the neck and tipped it to his lips. The taste bit his tongue with its sweet but metallic tang and he coughed in the middle of his drink. A little wine dribbled from his mouth, staining a trail that Namikawa stared at. For the first time that night, Light felt nervous as he handed the bottle back.

“First time?”

“No.” Light shook his head. “Just wasn’t prepared. Tastes good though.”

“It should.” Namikawa took a long drink and then wiped the excess wine from his mouth. “It cost enough to buy half this entire hotel.”

A shiver ran through Light’s spine at the thought of such an amount of money being poured on him. While he didn’t like to admit it, wealth had always been attractive to him. Luxury got to him. He couldn’t dwell on that feeling, however, and started to lean closer to Namikawa. At some point, he needed to ask after Yotsuba’s dealings. Opening his mouth with the intent to ask a question, Light started as a strawberry pressed between his lips. Reflexively he bit down and a soft laugh made his cheeks go warm.

“I like to hear you talk.” Namikawa swung his legs up onto the bed and scooted close to Light. He put a finger against the stem of strawberry and pushed it further into Light’s mouth. “But you look better with a full mouth.”

“Light,” L said sharply. “Regain control of the situation.”

Frowning, Light chewed the strawberry and turned the gears of his mind. Something had to be done. His gaze flashed to the tray of fruit and he took a cherry from it. He finished the strawberry and then bit gentle into the cherry.

Smile tugging at the corners of his lips, Light leaned into Namikawa’s space to offer up his mouth. With his thumb, he pressed on his bottom lip and tugged down until Namikawa popped his lips open. The other man met Light halfway and sunk his front teeth into the cherry. Light pulled back to let the cherry tear in two and watched as Namikawa sucked in his half. His face twisted and his lips pursed, ready to spit out the pit. Light’s hand shot out to cover his mouth.

“No.” Cruelty spread over his face. “Swallow it. All of it.”

Namikawa’s eyes went wide and Light heard over his ear piece the distinct sound of a spoon hitting a desk. He imagined the silent interest that must’ve infected L’s face as he watched Light squeeze another man into obedience. Throat bobbing as he swallowed, Namikawa’s hands reached out and took Light’s hips, shoving him flat to the bed. Wine spilled onto the floor with a dull thud as he wrestled the hand on his mouth away.

“So that’s who you are,” he said.

“That’s who I am.” Light placed his fingers on top of Namikawa’s hands and stroked the thin skin. Beneath them, his fingers felt the ridges of bone move to clutch him harder. “So. Who are you?”

“I suppose I’ll have to show you.” Hot breath spilled against Light’s lips that sang of alcohol. Eyes sliding shut, Light found himself listening to the sound of L’s breath in his ear. If he squinted in his mind, he could feel that breath above him and pretended the smell was sweeter. Hands moved up his sides until they cupped his face to pull him into a kiss. Light didn’t open his eyes.

“Don’t be distracted,” L said. “Remember your mission.”

Light pressed into the kiss harder. His mission. His important mission. He opened his eyes and tried not to imagine L watching him. Namikawa moaned into their connected mouths and Light swallowed the sound. He swallowed the thought of L watching him. He swallowed all of it.


	6. light/matsuda "we've only got three minutes"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> light gives matsuda a blow job and asks him to come on his chest

He hasn’t told anyone about what he does with Light. He doesn’t because Light asked him not to and also he’s not sure anyone would believe him. Light Yagami? The good man, the smartest person in any room he enters? Matsuda couldn’t get him if he tried. But it turned out that he didn’t need to try. Light came to him.

All the lights except one dingy bulb are shut off in the supply closet and he can’t talk. Light’s mouth seals over his and Matsuda lets him swallow his moans. Teeth drag down his bottom lip and Light pulls back. His cheeks are a freshly slapped pink and for a moment Matsuda remembers that same high color on his face when Light fought L. Back when he was eighteen. Back when his eyes were warm and the Chief was alive. Back before he put his hand in Matsuda’s pants with a smile that scarred.

“Do you like this?” Light’s voice is low and thin like a razor wire. If Matsuda talks back, his tongue might cut on the tight of it. “You like it when I touch you, Matsuda. Tell me how you like it.”

“It’s good.” Matsuda chokes out. “That’s—do that again.”

Flicking his wrist, Light pumps his hand on Matsuda’s dick with the wet slap of lubricant eases his movement. He keeps the bottle in his back pocket. When he stands in the investigation room Matsuda sees the ridge of it stand out on the curve of Light’s ass. Then he shoots his attention back to his paperwork. If he looks too long, he won’t be able to stop and everyone will know what they aren’t supposed to know—what Light asked him not to tell.

Matsuda smooths a hand over Light’s ass and the bottle digs into his palm. He curls his fingers in until the flesh gives and drags Light closer. Their mouths meet and Light groans into the kiss, mouth open and lips wet. He starts to move his hips into Matsuda’s and his gaze is unfocused, hazy. A slick pop follows as Light rips his hand away out of Matsuda’s pants and, after one more hard kiss, he slides to his knees.

“Put it in,” he says. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

A part of Matsuda hates when Light talks like that—dirty, degrading. Underneath his voice is something spiky—a weapon that’s just out of sight. His face is shiny and his eyes are bright. As Matsuda takes hold of his chin, Light lets him pull his mouth open and rub his thumb over his bottom lip. The moist press of a tongue touches Matsuda’s fingertip. He takes his dick from his underwear and guides it into Light’s mouth. The stretch at his mouth’s corners fills Matsuda with some parts horror and some parts excitement. There’s a thrill to using Light Yagami.

He rocks forward into warm wetness and hears a squeak as Light adjusts to a full mouth. One hand wraps around the part of the shaft still outside as Light starts to bob his head up and down. In slow circles, his tongue laves the underside of Matsuda’s dick. A panic strikes him; Matsuda doesn’t know where to put his hands.

This is not the first time Light’s blown him. He does it often, says he likes making Matsuda come and wants to make him feel good. Even with a dick down his throat, Light still looks pristine. His head wreathed in a tacky yellow glow, Matsuda could’ve mistaken him for a painting. Hang him in a museum and let the world admire him from afar. Let everyone see this example of a good man. Put him on his knees and fuck his mouth. Does this make him feel good? Matsuda doesn’t know anymore.

He settles his thumbs on either side of Light’s mouth and pulls it open wider. A moan rips from Light’s throat in one rough stroke and the rhythm of his hand stutters. Matsuda presses down harder and more noises spill out of Light like a kettle boiling over. They’re pretty sounds that burn holes in his resolve and he moves harder. Without thinking, he shoves in deep, hits the back of Light’s throat and feels it flutter around his dick. Tear rim Light’s eyes and spit dribbles down his chin.

Behind his eyes, Matsuda feels his orgasm build. He’s not going to last much longer. Below him Light chokes and slaps his hand on Matsuda’s hip. Groaning, he pulls out and his dick shines slickly. Light’s lips are scrapes of red ripped on his face and he smacks them together. Fingers quick and fumbling, he starts to pull off his turtleneck and exposes his chest underneath. His stomach curves in. Only angles make up his body and if Matsuda ran his fingers down Light’s ribs he’s sure they’d bleed. Every day, Light becomes sharper. In the back of his head, Matsuda finds him a reflection of L but he’d never say such a thing out loud.

“We’ve only got three minutes,” Light says. “Quick. Come on my chest.”

“What?” A buzz covers Matsuda’s mind as the request sinks in. “Light. Are you sure? You’ll be all messy.”

“Just do it.” Light’s razor wire voice wraps tight around Matsuda’s throat and yanks. “Just do what I ask you to do.”

Hand shaking, Matsuda starts to pull on his dick and hot sparks go off in his stomach. Fire bursts inside and he shoots onto Light’s chest in one long spurt. Come paints his tan skin and starts to drip like rain on a window pane. Eyes shut, Light runs a hand through it and brings the hand to his mouth. He sucks wet fingers into his deep red mouth with a low hum.

“Thank you.” He slurs his speech around his fingers. “Now I’ll feel you on me all day.”

Matsuda’s heart shudders in his chest. He doesn’t like how Light’s eyes are so close to red. He doesn’t like how he smiles with a stretched mouth. He doesn’t like how he likes it and how he wants to kiss Light to taste himself. Light puts his turtleneck back on and stands. With one last tug on the hem, he turns and looks over at Matsuda, expression neutral but cheeks still flushed.

“I’m going back to the investigation room,” he says in perfunctory tone. “You should wait a few minutes before you follow. Don’t want to arrive at the same time or everyone might catch on.”

He leaves through the door and Matsuda tucks his dick into his underwear. One hand shoves his shirt back in his pants while the other zips up. A rock drops in his stomach as he waits a minute but he ignores it. It’s not worth picking up.


	7. light/namikawa “why the hell is there glitter everywhere?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> namikawa and light wake up after a party

Light laid back and thought of an archway. He saw it in a book, an archway to a church that was so delicate it was a marvel it held up the building. Eyes shut and mouth covered by another’s, he imagined himself as the archway, bent to keep an entire world from falling to pieces. Lost in that singular thought, he didn’t move as Namikawa’s hands held his hips down and twisted. A slight spark of pain distracted him but didn’t pull Light back into the moment until a nail dug into his skin.

“Shit.” He brought his teeth down on Namikawa’s bottom lip and earned a hiss from the other man. “Be careful.”

“Speak for yourself.” Namikawa pulled away and looked down at Light. His hair, pulled back into a loose ponytail, slipped into long strands that brushed the pillow. They were bars that blocked Light’s vision of the room around him. With the back of his hand, Namikawa wiped a bead of blood from his mouth. “You’ve got more teeth than I remember.”

“Sorry.” Light’s voice skipped over the half-hearted apology but he knew Namikawa was too swallowed by his own desire to notice the weakness. “I’ll make sure to watch where I bite next time.”

“There’s a few places I wouldn’t mind those teeth.” Fingers trailed over Light’s cheek and he imagined them catching on fire as they did. His skin, a rough surface on which matches sprung to life, would burn Namikawa into bones.

“Shut up.” Light jerked up and knocked Namikawa in the forehead. Pain rippled from his skull and spread through his head as Namikawa sat back. His expression reflected the same discomfort and his hand fell to Light’s knee, clutching it. “Just. Shut up.”

This night was one of Light’s less brilliant plans. No, it could barely be called a plan; this was a bandage and a poor one at that. For the last six days since L died, a persistent hole ached in his side and bled when he pressed at it. After drinking some beer Misa left in their apartment, he dragged out his phone and flipped until he found a number that looked promising. Namikawa appeared, hidden within dozens of other friends and family, and piqued Light’s interest.  He’d spoken to the man before, gone on a little undercover mission and seduced him, but scooted out before his honor had been besmirched. Tapping on his contact information made sense to the swirling logic in Light’s mind.

Whatever. It didn’t matter. Soon this haute bourgeoisie bastard would be the dirt on which Light walked, unable to ever tell a soul he had the god of the new world under him. So when Namikawa answered the phone, Light slicked his voice with honey until he was invited to a penthouse suite. The bed was as big as he remembered and the air just as cold. He couldn’t bring himself to care—anything to fill the hole.

Rubbing his forehead, Namikawa shook his head and opened his mouth to shoot a remark back. Instead, his phone vibrated from the bedside table. He squeezed Light’s knee and, reflexively, Light pulled away. Namikawa held his empty hand up in a gesture of surrender and answered his phone. His eyes flickered away from Light and to the wall. As the tinny sound of another’s voice came through, his mouth tightened.

“What’s happened?” Namikawa asked. “You’ve caught me at a particularly unfortunate time.”

Muffled stammering whined through the phone and Namikawa turned his face, lamp light curving over his sharp cheek. He listened with an impassive face and, legs bunched to his chest, Light watched the flickers of emotion that came through. There were few and they were quick.

“Well, why the hell is there glitter everywhere?” Namikawa spoke in measured frustration and then spared Light a glance. He smirked and clicked his tongue. “You’ve called me about an out of control party? Your job is to make such indiscretions vanish but instead you’ve come crying to me? Tell Ooi and his lady friends to not be such pigs and consider yourself jobless. Goodnight.”

Namikawa’s voice, smooth and lineless, was a devoid of kindness. It struck Light in his gut as a blade and with every syllable it twisted. That uncaring blankness of tone, without any thought to the human on the receiving end, was too familiar and captured his attention in an unfortunate net. He cut words without looking, already confident in their ability to slice the other person to pieces. The sound of Namikawa’s voice, the familiar unforgiving ring of it, sent pleasant vibrations through the cavern inside Light. Curling his hand, Namikawa shut his phone and turned back to him.

“Well. That was annoying, wasn’t it?” Namikawa’s voice grew warm and cushioned. Light felt his interest slinking back into its cage but grasped to keep it close. Hastily, Light yanked off his jeans and cold air shrink-wrapped around them. He lifted himself to his knees and crawled until his lips touched Namikawa’s.

“Is that how you talk to all your employees?” He twisted a hand into the collar of Namikawa’s robe and spoke into the seam of his lips.

“Only the incompetent ones,” Namikawa said. “Does it put you off to hear me be so rude?”

“No.” Light pulled back but kept the robe’s fabric balled in his fist. “Talk to me like that.”

“Hm?”

“Talk to me like that.” Light repeated and grasped Namikawa’s hand, drawing it to hold his thigh. “I want to hear you be cruel.”

“Ah.” The tilt of knowingness to Namikawa’s face made Light itch to throttle him. “Is that what you want? For someone to be cruel to you?”

Cruelty? No. That wasn’t what Light wanted. He wanted to hear one voice, unkind but steady, repeating all his missteps as he crushed the speaker into dust. He wanted that voice to echo in the gaping wound L left behind. With one hand, he pushed Namikawa flat to the bed and straddled his hips, one knee on either side.

“No.” Light bent over Namikawa—a long, unbroken archway. “I want you to be unforgiving.”


	8. beyond/light "i got the groceries"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beyond gets the groceries for himself and light

The way Light can tell Beyond is coming is the variations in his footsteps. He doesn’t carry himself the same way twice—sometimes slinking, sometimes stomping. But he always moves quickly as though someone is right behind him with a gun. In that tradition, Light’s ears perk up at the jumbled noise of precise but hurried walking. From the couch where he’s reading, he hears the door slam open and he sits up, book falling into his lap.

In the doorway, Beyond stands hunched with three bags on either arm dragging him down. He shuffles inside and kicks the door closed.

“Don’t kick the door with your shoes on,” Light says. “You’ll leave a mark.”

“I got the groceries.” Beyond goes to their small kitchen and drops the bags onto counter. “Say thank you.”

“Your shoes.” When Beyond shoots an exasperated look at him, Light points to his scuffed and unraveling sneakers. “Take them off.”

Sliding his arms out of the bag loops, Beyond makes a big show of untying his shoes and then carrying them flat in the palm of his hands as though holding precious jewels. He moves out of his hunch into a stiff backed posture and marches to key table at the front door. Underneath are Light’s loafers making two neat lines beside his tennis shoes, clean and light blue. Beyond bends over and slowly puts his shoes next to Light’s before turning and spreading his arms apart.

“Is that better?”

“Don’t be an ass.” Light leans back on his reading pillow and the couch back blocks Beyond from view. “You’re not attractive enough to be one.”

The apartment is silent until the swift patter of Beyond’s footsteps startle Light. He doesn’t move fast enough to escape Beyond hopping over the couch to land on top of Light with a knee on either side of his hips.

“I’m not attractive enough?” He leans down so his breath, thick with a rotten smell like he’d been eating bird’s heads, smothers Light’s senses. “How funny. You don’t seem to worry about that when you need me to fuck you.”

As Beyond presses closer, Light brings his knees up and drives them into Beyond’s stomach. A loud gasp of breath punches out of the other man as he topples back and groans. Light throws his book to the side and stands. He watches Beyond’s face twist trying to catch his breath and bends over him, reaching a hand down to cover his mouth. Lips, thin and cracked, prickle the smooth skin of Light’s palm.

“Do you think you scare me?” Light hisses and pushes down harder so he can feel the ridges of Beyond’s teeth. “You moron. I’m not afraid of a single thing, let alone your ridiculous theatrics. If you ever try that shit again, I’ll strangle you with my bare hands.”

Beyond wraps a hand around Light’s wrist and jerks it away. Light lets him pull and tumbles on top of Beyond. Hands come up to pet his face and hair with gentle reverence.

“So fearless.” A thin and handsome chuckle escapes Beyond. Light forgets, sometimes, what a naturally smooth voice he has. He usually ruins it with some ragged laugh he insists is evil. So stupid. “Oh, how brave you are Light. Not scared of anything?”

Beyond’s gentle hand turns into a claw and yanks Light forward by his hair. A squeal, unintended and raw, escapes Light as he’s pulled until Beyond’s mouth is at his ear. He hears the heavy breathing, the little wet smacks of Beyond’s spit collecting on his tongue.

“You’re a little liar.” His voice slithers into Light’s ear. “A nasty little liar. Not afraid of a single thing? I see you watch your shadow. You’re scared shitless he’s going to come back, aren’t you? Scared he’s going to crawl in your bed and return all those ugly favors you paid him.”

Light jerks away and when he looks back, thin strands of his hair are trapped between Beyond’s fingers. The side of his face is hot and he gets to his feet. Fists form at his hips, clenching and unclenching, while Beyond stares at the hair in his hand. He smiles up at Light with a shit eating grin.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I won’t tell anyone. As long as you say thank you.”

“Thank you.” Light grits out the words and Beyond leans up, hand mockingly cupped around his ear.

“Thank you for what?”

Light takes a breath. He straightens the tangled yarn of his anger and schools his features. He looks down at Beyond and doesn’t smile. His face does nothing but look.

“Thank you for getting the groceries.”  

“You’re welcome.” Beyond nods and lays across the couch. He pats his lap. “Take a seat?”

“Eat shit,” Light says and goes to the kitchen to start unpacking the food.

“For you?” Beyond crows and laughs, jagged and unnatural. “Anything.”


	9. light/mikami "we’re in a public place and i just spent the last half hour making you ridiculously aroused"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> light calls mikami as kira and tries to have phone sex with him

At night, Mikami liked to ride the metro train. The gentle shake of the vehicle hurtling around Tokyo and soft noise of older, night workers mumbling to themselves soothed him. He was amongst society but not a part of it—a person outside of time.

He plugged his headphones into his Walkman and through them poured Chopin. Keeping still hands, he held the Walkman in his lap while watching the other riders sit in sullen silence. A few read the newspaper and Mikami held back a smile. Headline after headline rang out the good news of Kira. It was so wonderful to know that his work was bringing glory to Kira.

Columns of light shot through the vehicle at odd intervals as the metro train trundled forward. In his pocket, Mikami’s phone vibrated. He slipped his headphones off and took the phone out. No name was displayed over the front screen but instead a row of scattered numbers. For a moment, he considered letting the call got to voicemail but he hesitated. With his thumb, he pressed the green answer button and put the phone to his ear.

“Hello.”

Every function in Mikami’s body went still at the sound of Kira’s voice. His fingers shook and he couldn’t make a noise. Instead he sat with wide eyes as a chirping laugh followed Kira’s greeting.

“What?” Kira said. “Nothing to say to me?”

“I’m sorry.” His mouth moved despite Mikami’s frozen thoughts. “I didn’t expect your call.”

“Mmhm.” Kira hummed and smacked his lips together. “I only wanted to check in. To make sure you’re on the right path.”

“I’m doing exactly as you asked.” A note of anxious excitement threaded through Mikami’s voice. He couldn’t help that. Speaking to Kira held fire to his nerves and let them burn slowly. “Is there any problem? Do you need me to perform better?”

“No. No.” Something wavered in Kira’s voice that could’ve read as boredom. In the background, Mikami heard something pour into a glass and then the neat, short sound of Kira taking a sip. “Mikami. Would you like to please me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Kira’s voice, while a little slurred, had the bright cadence of a school teacher’s. It was even and encouraging as it washed over Mikami. “Tell me how you’ll please me.”

“I’ll destroy the wicked,” Mikami said. “Delete those who stand against your ideals and bring justice to the new world.”

A long begrudging sigh dragged out of Kira. Some brittle clicking—the clicking of an office chair Mikami realized—whittled back and forth while Kira took another sip. This drink was sloppier than the first one and, under his breath, Kira swore. Mikami pushed his glass up the bridge of his nose where they’d begun to slip from sweat. Across from him, an old man in a janitor’s uniform sneezed.

“Not like that,” Kira said. “Here. Let me try again. Tell me what your cock looks like.”

When Mikami was younger, barely out of college, he lived in a cloistered apartment with peeling wallpaper and a small, flat bed. Beneath him was a pornography store. Every day he came home, he trudged past the neon pink open sign and eyed the patrons in their dirty coats as they flipped through video tapes. At night, the films would float up through the floorboards and Mikami’s sleep was filled by the garish moans of pornography. He covered his ears but those slippery, wet voices of women lousy with pleasure crawled into his head.

 _Tell me what your cock looks like._ He thought of the pornographic videos now, while Kira breathed over the phone, and wondered how many times the smut peddlers played films with words like that. His glasses slipped again but Mikami didn’t go to catch them. They stayed on the tip of his nose and left the entire train car blurry.

“Why are you asking?”

“Are you questioning me?” Kira cracked a knuckle and a sharpness poked through the kind fabric of his previous tone. “Do you question God?”

“No,” Mikami sputtered. His body tensed and his nerves were disjointed. “Never. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Don’t worry.” Kira’s voice was like easy fingers smoothing a wrinkled shirt. “I’ll help you. Is your cock long?”

“It’s an average length.” Mikami coughed and thumbed over the pause button on his Walkman. “When I last measured it, I was about six inches.”

“Oh.” A puff of disappointment lifted Kira’s voice. “How often do you measure yourself?”

“My last time was a month ago,” Mikami said. “I want to keep an accurate record for my doctor.”

“How fastidious of you,” Kira said. “Are you circumcised?”

“No.” The mechanical nature of the questions began to ease Mikami. This was not the lurid roll of dirty talk he feared but instead simple physical questions. Over the phone, Kira set his drink down softly and his breathing changed into something heavier.

“Ah,” Kira said. “Do you like getting your cock sucked?”

Mikami’s glasses fell off his nose. He fumbled to catch them and his Walkman tumbled out of his lap. Everything clattered and banged on the metal floor as he tried to hold everything. All that stayed steady was the phone, held to his ear so he still heard the quiet crack of a zipper being pulled down.

“I don’t have that happen often.” With his one hand, Mikami gathered his Walkman and set it on the seat beside him. Eyes from all over the vehicle watched him pinch his glasses and put them back on. A thumbprint smudged the corner of his left lens. “I have enjoyed it but I don’t seek it out.”

“Would you like me to suck your cock?” Kira spoke with a trim click to his words. His voice smacked on the word  _cock_ as though he cut it out of sheet metal. “Would you like to have me on my knees with your dick in my mouth?”

“I—,” Mikami didn’t finish his thought as he heard a long gasp issue from Kira. “I would never let you put yourself so low.”

“I want to do it,” Kira said. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

“Please.” Unhappiness rimmed Mikami’s voice. “God.”

“Do you want to please me, Mikami?” The words stood out against every little noise around Mikami. They didn’t come from the phone. They didn’t come from a person. The words came from heaven and trumpeted to him their importance.

“Yes. More than anything.”

“Then tell me,” Kira said. “Tell me how you’d fuck me.”

“I’d kiss you.” Mikami spoke in a watery steps as though gingerly stepping through a marsh. Bog water filled his shoes. “I’d kiss you and touch your face.”

“Would you hold me down?” A wet, slick noise came through the phone and Mikami shut his eyes. He saw neon pink and dirty fingers tucked between crumbling video tapes. “Would you squeeze me?”

“I’d worship you.” Mikami imagined Kira. He was beautiful—a being of light bound into flesh by the most tedious of twine—and strong. Kira was smooth skinned. His mouth was an elegant slope into soft lips and his hands were always tender. They were firm hands. As he spoke, he felt those hand press down on him and his dick twitched. “I’d give you whatever you want.”

“Give me everything,” Kira hissed. “I want everything.”

“All of it.” Mikami breathed the words. “My body. All of it for you.”

“I want to feel you.” The tilt in Kira’s voice grew scratchier. This was a tone Mikami didn’t recognize, not from the dirty videos nor from Kira’s speech before. The sound was raw meat rubbed with salt and riddled with microscopic tears. “Please. Let me feel you.”

“Whatever you want,” Mikami said. “It’s all yours.”

“Fuck me.” Raw meat. Salt. The wet song of women on pornography videos screaming for more. “I need you to fuck me, Ryuzaki.”

A thumping knock interrupted Kira and silence cut through his breath. Mikami held his breath and his heart clutched at the name Ryuzaki. If God cried out his name, what must Ryuzaki be?

“What do you want, Misa?” Kira shouted. Mikami held the phone from his ear and realized how much sweat had formed on the screen. Through the speaker, he heard a muffled voice—a stinging woman’s trill—but couldn’t make out her question. Kira must have pulled away from his phone as well because his next words were fuzzy. What came through loud and clear was the crystalline terror of glass shattering.

“I’m sorry.” Kira returned to the call and spoke in his teacher’s voice again. Now beneath the even tone was the grit of salt. “I’m afraid I can’t talk anymore.”

“No.” Shaking his head, Mikami spoke in rapid, apologetic spurts. “I should be the one who’s sorry. I should have pleased you better. Forgive me. I was too—.”

“You’re forgiven.” A smile weaseled into Kira’s inflection. “You’ve done very well for me. I will call on you again soon.”

“Thank you,” Mikami said. His response was a dial tone.

With unsteady hands, he put his phone into his pocket and picked his headphones up. They slid over his head and the soft cushion brushed his ears. His Walkman bore a few scratches but when he pressed play, the CD continued without skipping.

He rode the train for the whole night and thought about a new world—a shining and perfect one.


	10. rem/misa "things you said when you were crying"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> misa cries to rem about her soap operas

Misa loved day time television the way some people loved children. She tended to her television set every day and paid it close attention. Rem hated television. While Misa laid stomach down in bed, flipping through channels, Rem stood at the window. Cars shot past in the thick summer air and, once again, she thought of how sour this whole little human world was.

A snorting hiccup sound took her from the outside and back to the room. Rem swung her gaze to Misa, who had begun to leak small, clogged wails. She reached an instinctive hand to Misa but stopped at the realization that she didn’t know what was causing the sadness.

“Oh, Rem.” Misa’s eyes were shut and pretty trails of mascara fell down her cheeks. “How could someone do such a thing?”

“What?” Rem loathed the slow dumbness of her own voice but couldn’t help it. She was lost in what Misa could be talking about. “Is this about Light? If he’s made you upset, I’ll kill him.”

“No,” Misa sobbed. She pointed to the television. “On the show.”

On the screen, Misa had been watching some new drama. A handsome man stood at a fountain, reaching after a woman holding the hand of another, grotesquely handsome man. Tears like the ones Misa spilled stained the first man’s face.

“He loves her so much,” Misa said. “He’s willing to die for her. But she’d rather be with that stupid guy who doesn’t even like her. It’s so sad, Rem. You can’t even imagine.”

Rem looked at the television, then to Misa’s crying and then back to the television. She had the beginnings of an altogether too human headache.

“Yes.” Her flat tire voice still left her chest run over and sunken. “How horrible.”


	11. beyond/light "guilty pleasure and science/medical"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beyond goes down on light in a hospital bathroom

Beyond watched the shoes—a neat pair of tennis shoes, although he couldn’t place the brand—cut slow steps toward his stall. A lazy grin came over his face as he put out his cigarette on the metal towel holder. The shoes stopped square in front of him and each foot stood a shoulder width apart. Tapping his own shoeless feet, Beyond waited.

“Do you have permission to be smoking in here, Beyond?”

“Maybe,” Beyond said. “Do you have permission to follow your patients into the lavatory, Dr. Yagami? Seems suspect.”

He imagined his doctor’s face pressed into frustration but was surprised by the tweet of laughter that instead followed. The door rattled as an arm braced on it and the laughter continued.

“I don’t need permission to do anything,” Dr. Yagami said. “You put out your cigarette so obviously there’s no more business for you in the toilets. Now, get out.”

For a moment, Beyond sucked on his teeth and then punched the stall wall. He stood up, jerkily unlocking the stall and shoved his weight on the door. A scuffle preceded his emergence and he looked down at the neat tennis shoes, shuffled backward. Next to one was a puddle of water.

“You’re standing next to piss,  _Light,_ ” he said. “If you don’t want those nice shoes to get dirty, you ought to stand somewhere else.”

Light clicked his tongue and looked down. He stepped to the right and dropped his hands into his pockets. The long white lab coat almost hid a blue sweater and crisp twill trousers. Beyond’s own standard hospital uniform—a red jumpsuit that cinched at the waist and had his name stitched on a breast pocket—was ill-fitting by comparison. He’d been handed an incorrect size that didn’t suit his tall frame and left his white socked ankles exposed.

“You’ll never get out for good behavior if you sneak off to smoke during group therapy,” Light said. “And I won’t sneak you Jaffa Cakes from the break room either.”

Beyond reached into his breast pocket to take out his dwindling cigarette pack. He pulled one out and offered it to Light, who paused before snatching it. Grinning, Beyond watched him tuck the cigarette between his lips. They were chapped, a sure sign Light pulled a few all-nighters that week, and went pinker when he pressed his lips around the cigarette.

“Fuck.” Light patted his coat. “How’d you light yours? I know you’re not supposed to have flammables.”

Between two fingers, Beyond took out a matchbook from the same pocket. When Light reached for the matchbook, Beyond pulled it away and mockingly clicked his tongue. Fondness sparked in his heart at Light’s frustrated expression.

“Come here.” He lit a match. “Let me light that for you.”

Light looked up at him with sharp eyes. They snatched up every inch of Beyond in their gaze and didn’t lose their hunger for a moment. He liked that about Light; his hunger for other people’s intentions was matched only be Beyond’s own. After a few moments, Light stepped into the orange flicker of the match. His cheeks hollowed as he inhaled and let out a long cloud of smoke.

“Fuck,” Light said. “I really need to stop doing this. Smoking, I mean.”

“Probably shouldn’t let reformed arsonists carry matches either.”

“Well.” Light took another drag. “I didn’t know you had those. Where’d you get them anyway?”

“Stole them from a nurse.” Beyond wiggled his fingers. “Admit it. You get a little guilty pleasure letting me get away with things, don’t you?”

Instead of an answer, Light looked down. The cigarette dangled from his mouth and, for a moment, he was small. His lab coat was too big on his skinny frame, his hair too long down his neck and the bathroom too dirty for him to be in.

Beyond thought about taking back what he said. Since he’d been admitted to the psych hospital after the burning incident—which wasn’t that bad when you considered Wammy was rich enough to just build a new library wing to replace the burnt one—Light was the only doctor who liked him. He laughed at Beyond’s jokes although it was hard to place the real laughs among the fakes. He didn’t call Beyond a crazy freak or stare at the molting scar tissue up the left side of his body. He let Beyond kiss him, alone, during a solo therapy session.

He reached out and tugged on Light’s sleeve. “C’mere, Dr. Yagami.”

“I’m tired,” Light said. “Let me finish my cigarette.”

“You can keep smoking.” Beyond dropped his face into the crook of Light’s neck and sucked a kiss there. “I’ll fuck you while you smoke. Two guilty pleasures for one.”

Soft gasps fell from Light’s mouth as Beyond slung an arm around his waist and dragged him back into the stall. Door locked behind them, Light put his hands on Beyond’s shoulders and clutched them. He slid his leg up and hooked it on Beyond’s hip, rocking against him. When Beyond looked at him, Light blew smoke in his face.

“Knees,” he said. “Get down on your knees.”

Beyond buckled and dropped to the bathroom floor. Light’s hands moved quickly to unbutton his pants but before he could do it himself, Beyond already had his finger hooked in the waist band. He dragged them down along with Light’s black briefs until his pussy was exposed. Unable to stop himself, Beyond pressed his face in Light’s crotch, hands squeezing his thighs hard enough to leave white spots. Groans echoed above him as Light rocked into his face.

“Fuck,” Beyond said. “Spread your legs for me.”

He pushed a bit and Light opened to him. His clit peeked out from between his lips and Beyond ducked down to lick it. He was rewarded with a bright whine so he continued, using his thumbs to open Light further. A hand crawled into his curls and dug in as Beyond licked and sucked deeper. Through the wet noise of him giving head, he still heard the pop of Light inhaling from his cigarette.

“Beyond.” Nails scraped against his scalp as Light’s thighs flexed around his face. “I’m going to come soon.”

With a grin, Beyond ran his teeth over Light’s clit and relished that moan that followed. He teased it and pressed a finger into Light, pumping it in rhythm with his licks. Light shook above him and whined. His hips rocked down on Beyond’s face and finger until a sharp, final moan belted from him.

Beyond pulled back with slick lips and a grin. Light had the cigarette pinched between his thumb and forefinger still orange at the tip. With his pants down to his knees and his cheeks blotchy from pleasure, Light was quiet. Then he offered the cigarette to Beyond.

“You earned it,” he said.


	12. light/mikami “it doesn’t matter anymore”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mikami finds a sweater of L's that light's been hoarding

Sunday moved slow but in a way that didn’t agitate Mikami. He enjoyed the faint rhythm that fell between Sunday’s steps and followed the pattern. After about an hour more of reviewing for his next case, he took a short break and stopped in his and Light’s bedroom. The apartment was cold with December thoughts so he rummaged through their drawers. His search for something warm to throw on over his worn collegiate t-shirt ended as he found a soft sweater beneath a few of Light’s older button ups. The sweater was buried but didn’t have an offensive scent. Instead, it smelled like old tea.

Whimsy seemed to visit Mikami as he tugged the sweater on. But he couldn’t argue for a case against that whimsy. Part of him felt it was earned. Next month’s killings were planned out, his upcoming case was an easy divorce and in two days, his and Light’s first year anniversary was up. Spurred by the scent of black tea clinging to the sweater collar, he went to the kitchen to fix himself a cup.

He enjoyed the process of tea. Each step interlocked with the next to make a beautiful end product. Their tea bags were organized into a drawer, separated by plastic dividers Mikami ordered from an online catalog. Light teased him for his domesticity but the words never clawed him. Someone had to take care of these sort of things. Someone had to make sure he and Light lived in a good house. He chose a packet of Assam black tea and started the water boil. From the stove, he heard the click of Light in the living room as he, presumably, chewed on his pen.

Once the water finished, Mikami poured it out into one of Light’s misshapen mugs. They’d combined dishware collections after they moved into together but he was still wary about using Light’s personal cups. Many of them were odd, handmade pieces from his sister and others just gifts from coworkers Light hated. He took the mug in his right hand but refrained from drinking. Instead, he walked through the door into the living room to see Light bent up in a red armchair.

Between two fingers, Light spun a ballpoint. At ninety degrees he stopped its motion and tapped the pen onto the newspaper. He traced a letter in a blank crossword square. Mikami leaned against the kitchen door frame and sipped his tea.

“Ah.” He jumped back and snapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It vibrated from the tea scalding it. Light hummed and looked over his shoulder. His hair swept over his shirt collar and reminded Mikami they were both due for haircuts.

“Sorry,” Mikami said. “Too hot. Did I interrupt you?”

“Yes, but its fine.” Light pinwheeled the ballpoint again with his gaze touching over Mikami’s body. His eyes widened and glazed into sharp unpleasantness. “What are you wearing?”

“I found a sweater in the drawer.” With his left hand, Mikami stretched the sweater’s hem out. The white fabric was stained cream in the low light of the living room lamp. “Very cold today. I thought I should put something on before I catch a cold. Why?”

“Did you find that in my drawer?” Light folded the newspaper with his pointer fingers beneath the crease. He flicked it onto the coffee table and stood. His oxford was untucked—not unusual for a Sunday but unusual for Light—and he had the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Mikami studied the bend of his mouth. Something wanted to come out of there.

“In our drawers, yes.” Mikami sucked on his burnt tongue and put his tea next to Light’s newspaper. He took the space Light vacated when he sat up and lifted his chin a bit to magnify his height. “You wear my clothes all the time.”

“It’s not the same,” Light said. “That sweater isn’t supposed to be worn. You can’t wear it.”

He reached and took hold of the hem. Mikami stumbled backward as Light pulled the fabric up. His movements were the rough slaps of a puppet being made to grasp at things. With a hard yank, he knocked Mikami into the arm chair and bent over him.

All while he struggled to take the sweater off Mikami, Light’s face flashed from shadow to gold from the lamp. Finally, Mikami snatched Light’s wrists and held them apart. The hem remained pinched between two of Light’s fingers which shook in Mikami’s grip.

“Let me go.”

“You’re behaving strangely,” Mikami said. “Trying to rip off my clothes like this.”

“They’re not your clothes.” Light’s voice swung out in such a sharp curve that Mikami felt its blade against his fingers and dropped Light’s wrists. That same blade seemed to cut the fierce look in Light’s eyes and he let his hands go limp. For a moment, the room spun with silence.

Light inhaled through his nose and Mikami watched his mouth trace a slow countdown as he exhaled. His hands found their way onto Light’s hips and guided him into his lap, rubbing his thumbs over the divide between pant waistband and skin. They sat, motionless, until Light turned his head into the fold of the sweater collar. His heartbeat thudded through Mikami like the steady calm cycle of an old ceiling fan.

“Whose clothes are they?” Mikami didn’t want to ask the question—didn’t really care about the answer—but knew they were the right words to string together. He was in a court room, he imagined, and his lap was the witness box where Light sat. All he needed to do was ask the right question and he would win.

“The smell.” Light spoke into the fabric. “The same smell. It’s still there.”

“Who does it smell like?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” When he spoke, Light’s words curled in velvet around Mikami, enough that he didn’t care about the divider hidden within them. “I’m sorry. I was being strange, you’re right. Forgive me?”

The burn on Mikami’s tongue tingled in a faint ashen way as Light gave him a soft, open mouthed kiss. He didn’t answer Light. He kissed him back.  


	13. light/misa "first time sex"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> light and misa have sex for the first time

There is no art in their apartment. In her old apartment, Misa kept posters and old religious art tacked all over the walls until no bare spots appeared. She hung rosaries on hooks and lined shrunken heads, sick skull dolls, and gilded crosses on her floating shelves. Her home with Light had no such character. She asked if they could paint the walls at least and Light informed her they weren’t allowed.

“Don’t be so sad,” he said to her reluctant face. “This place is temporary. Our true art lies out there in our new world. In here, the decoration is our love.”

He patted her shoulder and went to his office. The door knob was locked stiff like a doll’s hand when she tried it. She whispered first then yelled at Light to let her in but received no reply so she went to the bedroom. Bothering Light never led her down any rosy paths.

Misa laid in their bed and traced her hands in twin circles on the cotton duvet. A new, plastic smell clung to the blue fabric—a color Light picked out—and reflected the smell of the whole apartment. Their furniture—chosen at a big box store by Light confidently pointing at pieces while Misa dithered by the cart—still held a crisp cardboard scent from their delivery boxes. Only the mattress, which Light brought from his parent’s home, was worn in. Everything else was stiff and not yet made malleable by time and care.

She settled her hands over her stomach and stared at the ceiling. This place didn’t feel like a home but she could fix that. Connections and feelings were what Misa excelled at. Taking in a deep breath, she held the air in her mouth until an idea came to her. Blue spots invaded her vision and her cheeks burned. Then a thought, simple and easy, passed through her mind and air dropped out of her. What would be the best way to not only make this their home but also tie she and Light together? It was so simple—sex. In the rush of L and all that calamity, they’d never gotten to come together as one.

Clambering off the bed, she headed for the closet. It was a small one and only held her clothes. Most of her extravagant dresses were packed away in top shelf boxes. Light had been clear she should dress her age and in a manner appropriate for his girlfriend. Plain but fashionable shirts and dresses hung in lilted silence on either side of her but she paid them no mind. Instead, she dug through a chest of drawers against the back wall containing her undergarments. Lace lingerie parted under her hands as they scavenged for something good, something fitting their first time.

Her final decision—a lace body suit that stretched into a pentagram over her chest—seemed classy but still provocative. Light didn’t like any complicated looks, didn’t like having straps and buckles to work through. Even in her most alluring attire, he usually ignored her undergarments until she asked him what he thought. His replies were kind but she couldn’t hear any sexual interest behind them. The words came out like predictive text on a computer—as though he had calculated each phrase by what he knew would please her. And they did please her, of course, but Misa knew hollowness. She could hear caves.

As she laid back down on the bed, trying to decide on a good pose, Misa thought about what she should say when Light came in. Something flirty, maybe, or would Light react more to something forceful? She got better results with him when she demanded rather than waiting for him to act. Sometimes Light just didn’t know what he wanted, silly man, and Misa had to tell him. She had a knack for knowing what people wanted since it was usually her.

At half past nine at night, Light finally wandered into the bedroom. Misa had shut off the lights except for one lamp at their bedside so he fumbled for a moment. His footsteps thumped and small grunts of frustration came from him while Misa waited. She coughed and felt his attention swing to her.

“What are you wearing?” His voice was devoid of interest. Instead, he sounded tired. “Why are the lights off if you’re not asleep?”

“I want to have sex,” Misa said. “I know you’re shy so I wore something a little fun to warm you up. You should come sit on the bed.”

She patted his empty side of the bed and smiled. Her lips stretched but not uncomfortably since she hadn’t applied lipstick. Light hated when she wore lipstick. Light let a second pass and then came to the bed in long, swaying steps. He dropped to the mattress which barely bounced under his weight. Misa reached for his hand, covered it and ignored the flinch of his pointer finger.

“Of course.” Light placed his hand over hers and it was cool if a little clammy. Once empty, his voice was now a full ocean warm enough for Misa to dip her toe into. “You’re right. It’s time for us to become intimate.”

She opened her mouth to speak and brushed a hand over Light’s cheek. His skin was soft, peach fuzz there so golden it hardly showed up to her eyes. With her thumb, she skimmed his cheekbone and smiled. A smile floated onto Light’s lips but he didn’t move toward her touch. Her hand skimmed up into his hair and clawed in the strands. Under her fingers, Light’s scalp gave and the oily skin scrapped beneath her nails. She jerked him forward and into a kiss. A lick over his sealed lips made them twitch into opening. Her tongue shot in and moved to explore the ridges of his teeth, the slick rub of his inner cheek.

Sighs released from Light in a measured tempo as he brought his hands to her waist. His palms pressed the lace against her skin and scratched pleasantly. Misa cranked up a few moans loud enough to declare her enjoyment. She leaned on him and pushed him flat to the bed without breaking their kiss. As his hands remained steady on her, she straddled his hips and ground her crotch on the ridge of his dick. Not a single flinching movement, not a bucking nor a rub replied to her warm gyrations. Instead, Light laid stationary as though he were an extension of the mattress.

Fighting a frown, Misa clutched at some way to engage him. The hand not dug into Light’s hair went to his chest. It was only there a moment, just long enough to feel the threading of his binder beneath his t-shirt, before he caught her wrist. His grip was firm and his fingers were bonier than she remembered. Under them, color sucked from her skin. She shook against his hold but he didn’t let go.

“Not there,” he said.

Their faces were inches from each other’s with the stands of hair knocked loose from her ponytail puddled next to Light’s head. From the lamp, a highlight caught the flicker of amber in his irises. The first time she met Light she’d been struck by how pretty his eyes were. Where she hung now, right above him, those eyes were murderously beautiful.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Sorry.”

In a quick swipe, she put her hand lower to cup his crotch and circled her palm there. She expected direct contact would sway him into movement but he didn’t. Her expression must’ve betrayed her disappointment because a weak moan choked out of him. Still parallel to his face, Misa pressed another kiss to his closed lips and whispered into them.

“I want you inside me,” she said.

“Yes.” His eyes were closed and his next words came out in a strange, quiet voice. “I’m going to turn the lamp off.”

“But.” Misa couldn’t help the piercing quality to her exclamation. “I want to see you.”

“Misa.” Quiet chased out of his voice, Light spoke like a whip on her skin. “I’m turning the lamp off.”

He reached to the bedside table and snapped the pull string. All his fine features disappeared with the light.

With just the grey outlines of his clothes visible, Misa fumbled with Light’s zipper until it was open. She took a firm hold of his packer and adjusted it. For a moment she paused and then looked to Light.

“I want the bigger one,” she said. “Please.”

“You know where it is.” Light’s voice came from no discernable location. “Should get the lube and condoms as well.”

She crawled off him and trundled to Light’s drawers. Even in the dark, she knew the feeling of her favorite of Light’s strap on dildos. Misa collected that, a bottle of lubricant and a condom before going back to the bed. She set the items down first and undressed, letting the body suit drop to the ground. Anxious, she waited for the rustle of Light turning to look at her. She was rewarded with nothing so she climbed back up. Straddling his hips once more, she stopped.

“Do you want a different position?”

“No,” Light said. “This is good.”

Impulsively, she pressed the lube into his hand.

“I want you to finger me.”

There wasn’t any noise from Light but shallow shadows of his face twitched in irritation. He accepted the bottle and wet his fingers liberally. As he did, she removed his flaccid packer and replaced it with the dildo.

From a tap to her thigh, Misa lifted enough for him to fit his hand underneath her. He parted her lips, rolled a finger vertically over her opening and then flicked her clit. She ground against the movement but he didn’t do it again. A finger inserted inside her and Light began to pump it in hard, mechanical thrusts. In the absence of pleasure, she rocked her hips down to work up enthusiasm. The more she moved, the more excited she became and if she squinted her mind’s eye, she saw Light’s interest as well.

“I’m ready,” she said. “Please.”

His fingers came out of her and he wiped them on her naked thigh. Ripping open the wrapper, she rolled the condom onto the dildo and took the lube from Light. She slicked his cock and raised herself to hover over it. Then sunk, slowly, onto its blunt head until her pelvis pressed to his.

Misa rocked on Light’s cock and whined throughout. She stuttered out how good it felt, how he was filling her up. He said nothing. At a point, she grasped him by the wrist—an echo of his previous action on her—and yanked it to her breast.

“Here,” she said. “Touch me here.”

He rolled both breasts in his long fingered hands, pinching her nipples and cupping the swell of them. His hands didn’t stray in any creative fashion. Misa would have called his manner clinical were it not for his infrequent moans imbued with the perfect amount of longing. She met her completion on his cock and with her own finger rubbing her clit.

Misa squeaked as she pulled herself off and Light rolled to the side. His back faced her as he rustled around removing the dildo. Her thighs were still wet.

“Light,” she said. “Will you hold me?”

“I have work.” The click of his zipper covered the waver in his voice. “I’ll be in later.”

She watched him hastily gather himself and stand. At the doorway, he made a thin shadow. His shoulders were hunched and she blinked. For a moment, she saw a ghost bending him down.

“Are you happy?” Her voice whistled out. “Now this is really our home.”

Light’s breath wheezed when he spoke and he didn’t move a muscle.

“Yes,” he said. “I couldn’t be happier.”


	14. beyond/light “why didn’t you say you liked it rough?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beyond makes light admit he fantasizes about having sex with L

Light’s muscles flexed under Beyond’s hands. Knees on either side of his hips, Light bent above him like a lighting struck tree with a smile just as crooked. Fingers skimmed over his skin and crawled over his ass to grip the waistband of his briefs. Beyond tugged them down an inch but stopped. With heavy breathing, Light frowned and pushed back into his hands.

“Do you want me?” Beyond’s teeth were mismatched and silver fillings littered his molars. “Your body seems to.”

Hair hung around Light’s face and darkened his features until all Beyond saw was the bright of his eyes. One finger played with his waistband and the other slid down Light’s thigh to grip it. In the heaving of Light’s chest there was incredible violence held back by thin skin. Beyond wanted to dig his nails in and tear it away, suck the cruelty out of his ribcage until he was full—until Light’s evil was his own.

“Don’t be a tease.” Light ground his cunt down onto the ridge of Beyond’s dick. “That’s my job.”

Beyond groaned and jerked his hips up to meet Light’s movements. They pressed against each other like that while Light found his way to Beyond’s neck and buried kisses there. Nothing kind lingered behind his lips but a sliver of want poked through them. Beyond slid his hand down into Light’s underwear and cupped his ass. He forgot gentleness and dug his nails into the skin. A narrow moan escaped Light and opened his mouth against Beyond.

“Fuck.” He squirmed into Beyond’s hold. “Ryuzaki. Touch me.”

Blood frozen, Beyond loosened his grip on Light and pulled back. As he did, the slack excitement on Light’s face revealed itself to him in shades that might have aroused him were his stomach not full of ice. He took his hand out of Light’s briefs only to smack him hard on the ass. Light let out a strangled squeal of pain and dragged Beyond up by his shirt collar. His eyes flashed red and, not for the first time, Beyond wondered if he could see the numbers too.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” His voice was poison. A lazy grin crawled up Beyond’s face as he brought another swat down. “Ow! Stop it.”

“Who do  _you_ think I am?” Beyond’s voice was a rusty razor and the rage on Light’s face stilled. It listened to him. “You think you can make a voodoo doll out of me so you can fuck him? So he can fuck you?”

“I don’t!” Red flushed over Light’s cheeks. His eyes wavered between fury and embarrassment. “Shut up.”

“It’s always ‘oh Ryuzaki’ or ‘Ryuzaki, touch me.’” His hands skimmed up onto Light’s back and Beyond rubbed them there—an echo of tenderness. “You can’t even say his real name, can you?”

“I can.” Light bit out his words.

“Then say it.” Beyond ground the heel of his palm into Light’s side. “Who do you want to fuck you?”

“I want—,” Light choked out and grabbed Beyond’s hand, squeezing it. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying.” Another smack landed on his ass and Light ground out a scream. “Okay. Fine. I want L to fuck me. I want him to fuck me. Is that what you want to hear?”

For a moment, Beyond laid in silence and listened to Light’s rough sobs. He glanced up to see tears on Light’s cheeks and his mouth bent into sadness. His shoulders shook while he cried and sniffled until Beyond brought a finger to his eye. It came away wet. Eyes gone still, they stared at each other until Beyond let loose a crackling laugh.

“Poor Light,” he crooned. “Think you can fool me with those crocodile tears, don’t you? Acting like you didn’t dance on his grave. Regret doesn’t suit you.”

Light turned his head upward, the jut of his chin a harsh line in the lamp light. When Beyond was younger, the Wammy house made him go to church. While he kneeled during prayer, he imagined what angels might look like: glowing, probably, with soft, curled hair and coming down from heaven draped in thick robes. Their wings reached to the sky and they wore many faces. Here, underneath Light, he wondered whether angels might be shaper than he’d thought. Perhaps god made angels cruel.

“Can’t I want you both?” Light spoke toward the ceiling but his voice dripped down over Beyond’s face. “Is that asking too much?”

“Have you ever imagined it?” Beyond sat up, holding Light steady in his lap. When he slid his hands down the back of his underwear, Light’s ass was still warm. “Getting fucked by both of us? I bet you have. All that attention on you, huh?”

“Beyond.” A tightness twisted in Light’s voice. He ground down on Beyond’s dick and wraps his arms around his neck. Something cried out excitement in how he moved that had never been spoken before. Beyond pushed past a feeling of annoyance and continued to weave a story in Light’s ear.

“We’d put you between us.” His hands tighten on Light and dragged him closer until their chest pressed against each other. “Can you feel it? His ghost hard on your back and me at your front. All those hands touching you and clutching you. Everyone wanting you.”

“Mm.” Light brought a hand to Beyond’s face and dug his thumb into his cheek. He pulled his lips into a kiss—open and wanting. He wouldn’t beg but he would ask with tongue and teeth. When he spoke, his voice echoed into Beyond’s mouth. “Yes. Both of you.”

A squeal choked in Light’s throat as Beyond pushed him down to the bed. He dug his face into Light’s neck and grazed his teeth there. Light bent up into the strong touch and let Beyond wrestle his hips down. Fingers hooked in his waistband, Beyond dragged Light’s underwear down to his ankles. They awkwardly fumbled and threw the briefs to the side.

Beyond bit Light on the shoulder as he pressed a hand to his cunt. Light rolled his body into the touch.

“Why didn’t you say you liked it rough?” Parting his cunt’s lips, Beyond teased circles around Light’s clit while he dug a fingernail into his nipple. “Would you want him to be rough with you? Do you want us to push you around?”

“No.” Light shook his head and a moan dragged out of him. “I want him to love me.”

Beyond’s hands stopped and he watched tears roll out of Light. The loud sobs from earlier were replaced by soft, near inaudible hitches of breath. All that gave him away was the weeping shine on his cheeks and the clattering rise of his chest.

“I want him to love me.” Light repeated in an ugly little whisper. He stared at the ceiling through glassy eyes and his hands clenched around nothing. Beyond’s mouth was dry of anything but bitterness. His love is nothing compared to a phantom’s. His hands were only made for roughness, for violence. But he’s held back from anger by the fact that Light is just as much a little beast. Maybe that’s why he’s crying. Light’s body has always been a blade too sharp for love to touch.

“Don’t worry.” Beyond rubbed Light’s clit again and was rewarded by a weak groan. “I can love you. I’ll love you.”

Light swallowed and lifted his head. Beyond kissed him and the lips under his were solid. They didn’t move. Then he shifted his finger to press inside Light and licked into the gasp it caused.

“Beyond.” Light’s voice was rough. His eyes shut, eyelashes still clumped together from crying. As though telepathically connected, the fantasy Light imagined projected itself into Beyond’s mind. “Mm. Beyond.”

“He’s behind you.” Beyond spoke against Light’s mouth. “He’s touching you with me. Everybody loves you. He loves you.”

“Yes.” Light choked on his words. A hollow feeling buried itself in Beyond’s chest but he kept fingering Light. It was okay. It was fine. “L. Fuck. Touch me. Beyond. Fuck me.”

Beyond sped up his fingers, let Light buck up into the sensation, and pretending not to feel cold ghost hands over his own. Pretended there was no quiet mouth on Light’s skin that he couldn’t see. No one else. Just Beyond.

It was enough. It had to be.


	15. beyond/light "toys"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beyond and light exchange some gifts

A Mr. Donut box sweated beneath Light’s arm as he fiddled with his keys. Even through the red apartment door he heard Mozart blasted at a horrible volume. The longer he played with the keys, the longer it would take before the full brunt of Beyond’s music would hit him. After another few moments, he unlocked the door and went in.

Draped over their couch with the same graceless entitlement as a well-kept cat was Beyond. Clad in a pair of snug corduroy trousers, his torso was bare and two pink clamps pinched his nipples. Light slipped his loafers off next to the front table and dropped the Mr. Donut box on it. He felt uncomfortably buttoned up next to Beyond’s bohemian dress and choice of accessory so he also removed his socks. The carpet sunk under his bare feet.

“Don’t you have a job you’re supposed to do for me?” Light ferried the box from the front table to the living room. Once he stepped closer, he noticed a black plastic bag slumped against the couch. “You don’t get to live here because you test out sex toys. You’re supposed to be murdering people when I can’t.”

“I’m taking a break.” Beyond cast an interested eye toward the box. “Did you bring me a gift? You know I love an edible gift.”

“You don’t deserve them.” Without joy, Light opened the box to reveal two rows of pastries clustered against each other. He snatched a brown sugar pon-de-ring and picked off a piece to chew. “Why are you wearing those anyway? We don’t have nipple clamps that I remember.”

“Oh, right.” Long fingers flipped over the small donut selection until Beyond picked a strawberry pon-de-ring. “I also got some gifts. Not edible though. But fun.”

He gestured to the plastic bag with his big toe. Light sniffed and bit another piece, savoring the soft texture. All week he wanted to indulge but with Beyond shirking his duties, this moment felt guilty. Still, his curiosity tingled as he studied the bag—opaque but suspiciously lumpy—until Light finished his donut.

“Did you get me a matching pair?” Light picked up the bag and rummaged in it. His hand brushed against a solid, silicone object. Wrapping his fingers around it, he pulled out a thick pink phallus. “Wow. How tasteful.”

“I thought so. It’s the second most expensive one they had.”

Light tossed the phallus aside and began searching the bag again. “Not worth the money. You need to think about your expenses better.”

“Very rich coming from a man who bought me donuts.” Beyond peeled the frosting from his donut with his teeth between words. “A snobby boy won’t get fucked nicely by that vibrator or by me.”

“I don’t need to respect you to get your penis, Beyond. Nobody has ever needed to respect you at all.”

A rustle was the only notice Light got of Beyond moving as his attention remained focused on the bag. His fingers danced around the tacky plastic until he touched a rounded object. Slowly, he took it out and balanced a black ball gag between his palms. Oxygen fled from Light’s lungs as he considered its weights. The small plastic ball and two leather straps were heavier than he imagined.

Against his neck Beyond breathed the hot sticky scent of artificial strawberries. His hands came around Light’s shoulders and slipped over his chest. The nipple clamps dug into his back and, for the first time, Light realized they vibrated. How long had he been wearing them? As soon as he thought the question, it vanished once Beyond took hold of his hands. Together they turned the ball gag over and over with a jeweler’s reverence.

“This one?” Beyond hummed as Light nodded his answer. “Interesting. Do you want to wear this, Light? Do you want me to gag you?”

“I want—,” but he couldn’t finish. Light was tightened at every joint, unable to move and consumed by a thousand ideas of what the gag might feel like lodged in his mouth. How tight the leather straps might be. How he might look to the outside observer or, worse and wonderfully still, how he might look to Beyond with his backtalk silenced by such a harsh tool.

“Oh c’mon,” Beyond said. “Use your words. Tell me you want the gag, hm? Tell me how you want to be put in your place.”

Light’s fingers flexed but he didn’t speak. Sighing, Beyond curled their intertwined hands together around the straps and lifted it up. He stopped right as the ball brushed against Light’s lips in a foreign but tender touch. To his horror, saliva pooled at the corners of his mouth with every caress.

“Yes or no?” Beyond spoke without ridicule and his tone was perplexingly logical. It carried an unfortunate echo of L beneath its terseness but that echo snatched Light by the skin. Nerves all over him grew frazzled while Beyond breathed in nasal huffs level with his ear. Fuck. He did want it.

“Yes,” Light said. “I want you to gag me.”

“Is that how you ask nicely?” A kiss fluttered against the shell of Light’s ear as Beyond said his next words right against it. “Show me some of that respect you didn’t before.”

Swallowing, Light closed his eyes and spoke. “Yes, sir. I want you to gag me, sir.”

“See?” The ball pressed hard to Light’s mouth as Beyond tugged the straps behind his head. “I knew you’d like the gift. I knew you’d show me how grateful you were.”

Eyes squeezed shut, Light opened his mouth. Even as the ball sunk in, he still tasted donut amongst the ugly glide of plastic. The sweetness couldn’t be drowned out.


	16. mikami/light "guilty pleasure"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light shares a fantasy about having sex in Mikami's office

Light never pictured himself as an office man although he loved a well-fitting suit as much as one. Suits, since he was young, appeared mythic to Light in how they transformed men into heroes. His father never tailored his suits but always seemed to pick the right size or so Light thought. On his sixteenth birthday, he wandered in on his mother letting out his father’s most prized suit jacket—grey wool with a red interior that marked serious man with an interesting personality—and was shocked. His mother, in response, patted the seat next to her.

“You should learn how to do this,” she said. “Just in case.”

While he got his own suits done at a dry cleaner across from his apartment, Light still remembered the stitches and sometimes fixed Mikami’s. The man spent his life in and out of courtrooms and yet he didn’t have a sense of his own fit. Before Light started to take in his jackets, Mikami wore them like bags draped over his antithetically cut torso. Reverence glowed in his eyes when Light handed back his altered suits and remained bright as he put them on.

“Oh,” he said. “Kami. They’re perfect.”

“Of course they are.” By the time Mikami spoke to him, Light would always busy himself with something else. “I don’t do imperfect work. You know that.”

Light didn’t think of himself as an office man but he enjoyed visiting Mikami’s. The long lobby reminded him of the police offices but only in the barest sense. There were secretaries and waiting seats, sure, but the decoration of Mikami’s building were luxurious in a way that law enforcement couldn’t match. While he waited at the elevator, Light admired a thick green fern next to the front desk. If that plant had been trapped in his office building, it would be dead in three days. Policemen had no sense for nurturing a growing thing.

The ride up was quiet and quick. Mikami worked on the third floor of a five story building and his office was set toward the back. Every time, Light missed the first turn and had to double back from the break room where tired old men bemoaned in passing the poor state of office coffee. The conversation made Light walk faster. Mikami had his own espresso machine in his quarters and the exclusivity made the beans taste exquisite.

He swept past the secretary whose name he never bothered to learn. She said it when Mikami introduced them at some small party for his law firm but Light’s mind played a Mozart concerto over her voice. Not enough room for everything else he needed to know and this annoying woman’s name. With a sharp jerk, he shut the door on her protests that Mikami was in a meeting and sealed himself into the warm mahogany office.

“I’m on the phone.” Mikami placed a hand over the receiver as he spoke. “Kami, please. It will only be a few minutes before I finish. I apologize for the inconvience.”

“I don’t mind waiting for you.” Light shrugged, hands tucked into his trouser pockets and chest tight beneath his turtleneck. He thought about a suit but decided a causal look made his visit less conspicuous. Who would wear a suit to surprise their boyfriend?

He slipped off his shoes one at a time and walked to Mikami’s desk where he returned to his phone conversation. Light leaned against the desk and let his eyes wander over the walls. He took in Mikami’s degrees in their slick steel frames and the shelves of law books he knew had multiple dog-eared pages. Long grey curtains covered a third of the floor length window staring out along a busy metropolitan Tokyo. A whole world just beyond a pane of glass. As he studied the new throw pillow added to the office couch, Mikami set the phone down with a soft click.

“There.” His voice had a half boiled firmness left over from the business call. The sound was more attractive than the high pitch it took on in his more worshipful moments. “Have you come to give me a new assignment? I have done everything you asked, Kami, and made sure to be careful.”

Light smiled with all his teeth. “I know. I didn’t come to give you homework. Is that couch new? Looks very handsome with the curtains. Jet-set, I think the phrase is.”

“It’s new. You don’t have any news? Then why did you come?”

Mikami sounded worried and tapped his fingers on the desk. Light reached to still them and shifted so his hip pressed against the desk as well. With a little push, he lifted himself and just barely sat on it. He didn’t miss the trepidation in Mikami’s eyes as Light’s ass pushed his organizer a little to the right.

“Have you ever done anything wild in here?” Light layered as much innocence as he could over the question. “Drank? Took too long of a nap?” He leaned forward and took Mikami’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting it up, he made sure their eyes met. “Had an illicit romantic moment?”

“You know that I never had sex with anyone before you.” Mikami didn’t sound embarrassed. Instead, his tone was disapproving. “Is that how you think I’d behave? In my place of work?”

“I don’t mean to be rude.” Biting his lip, Light weighed his options. He could back out and leave the issue alone. Mikami knew well enough to drop whatever Light told him to drop. But on the other hand, if he expressed desire, that desire would be met. He just had to leave a measure of honesty for a strong foundation. “It’s something I’ve thought about before. Sort of a guilty pleasure, I guess.”

“What? Imagining me having sex in my office? That’s disgusting.”

Light fought down an eye roll. “No. I want to have sex  _with_ you in  _your office._ ”

A blankness coated Mikami’s expression as he seemed to wrestle with the concept. He was a window partially opened and Light, sensing this, moved his hand to Mikami’s upper arm. In gentle circles, he rubbed the muscles under his shirt—a deep red silk button up that Light had taken in enough to show off a dedicated gym routine—and hummed.

“You’re so successful here,” he said. “I come and see you in this big office, your fine desk and handsome couch. Your pretty secretary. Look at all the things you’ve earned.”

He came closer and kissed Mikami. It was a short kiss, just enough to wet their lips, and he pulled back. Mikami leaned after his mouth and his hand, once fidgeting, shot to grasp Light’s thigh where it hooked on his desk.

His grip sent a hot wave through Light that nearly fumbled his next words. “You earned those degrees on the wall and those nice suits you wear. I want you to fuck me next to them.”

Mikami tugged Light fully onto the desk and his ass pushed a few client files to the floor. With both hands Light grabbed Mikami’s shoulders and they kissed again in a long slick swipe of tongues. He licked into the warm cup of Mikami’s mouth and moaned as one hand moved from his thigh to his back, pushing him further up into the tangle. Light’s fingers trembled traitorously as he grabbed Mikami’s hair to tug.

“Tell me how I’d fuck you,” Mikami said into the kiss. “Tell me, Kami. Tell me what you want.”

“You lay me on this desk,” Light gasped. “Or on that couch. Or against the window, even. Press us to the glass, hold me up and fuck me until I come. I know you’re strong enough to keep me pinned. Let everyone see how you please me. How you  _earned_ me.”

A soft sob fell out of Mikami as he moved to kiss beneath Light’s jaw and lowered him flat to the desk. His mouth shook against the thin skin and Light lifted a leg to wrap over his waist.

“Show me how perfect you are.” Light ran a hand through Mikami’s hair and squeezed the base of his neck. “Show me I chose well with you, Mikami.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, its me! the author! thank you for reading my fics. i'm so happy if you enjoyed them or got anything out of them. if you did like them, please leave a comment or two! it really makes my day when i read them. (b~_^)b


	17. lizard/light "we'll regret this"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizard and Light spend time at Light's sad straight-passing apartment

If he didn’t know him, Lizard would think Light didn’t live in his apartment. Neat but dated furniture sat in a sparse living room and faced a large television. No pictures hung on the walls and an empty birdcage trembled to the far left. The kitchen bore only the barest hint of activity—a smear of red sauce on the counter that Light angrily wiped away when he noticed Lizard looking. His expression softened into apology when their eyes met.

“Misa is so bad at cleaning after herself,” he said.

“Does she do most of the cooking?” Lizard wandered toward the faded blue couch and sat down. It whistled when he leaned his full weight onto it in a surprised strain.

From the kitchen rattled Light’s response as well as the clink of glass. “She cooks for herself.” Light slipped from the kitchen, his dark shirt loose around his neck and displaying a single kiss mark at his collar. In either hand were green bottles glistening with condensation. “I usually eat out.”

Light handed Lizard a bottle and, one leg after another, sat on his lap. “Eating with her is the worst.” He pressed his head on Lizard’s shoulder, words vibrating through his hoodie. “She’ll ask about my day and want to know when I’m going to take her places. It’s easier to say I have a work dinner or my family asked me to stay late.”

Lizard licked his lips with his eyes trained on the wine dark circle the same shape as his past mouth. WIth his attention compromised, he startled as he took a small sip. In place of the thin cream taste of beer was bitter mineral water. He couldn’t hide his surprise and Light laughed, tapping his finger on Lizard’s scrunched nose. “I don’t like beer remember?”

“Yeah. I remember.” Huffing, Lizard put his bottle on the coffee table and dropped his dampened hand to Light’s thigh. “Break up with her soon. We’ll regret it if you don’t. This apartment is too sad.”

“It’s not that sad.” Light muffled himself further into Lizard’s shoulder. The line of his body was a tight bow string. “What do you mean, ‘we’ll regret it’, huh? Who’s we?”

Lizard hummed and let his other hand cup Light by the chin. “You and your secret boyfriend also known as me, Mr. Lizard.”

He stroked Light’s thigh in gentle pushes the way he petted Akira after difficult company. Slowly, Light uncoiled and took a long drink of his own water, placing it by Lizard’s so his hands were free to wrap around his shoulders. Their breath mingled with mouths so close together. A kiss hovered between them, unsaid and unacted on, until Lizard tilted forward.

He kissed Light whole-mouthed and melted into the returned licks. Fingers played with his hair and twisted it around, Light not quite gripping into the strands. His hold was relaxed but pleasantly possessive. Lizard thumbed at Light’s jean waistband where the line split fabric and bare skin. Goosebumps rose under his fingers.

“My secret boyfriend.” Light whispered into the kiss like he was reciting a spell. “My Lizard.”


	18. light/lizard "we're in public you know"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> light tries to play a little sexy public game with lizard that backfires into an emotional exchange

Light is an efficient person. He has habits formed over years of being the responsible son like folding laundry right out of the dryer, cleaning toast crumbs off counter tops, and keeping his passwords written in a book hidden between their mattresses. Every moment to him is calculated to be as well-used as possible.

For this reason, Lizard is worried about how long Light’s been in the bathroom. He scoots his chair back and forth, staring at the French menu pretending to consider his options. The waiter smiles, asks again what Lizard wants to drink, and he orders a bottle of their third most expensive red wine. Happy to let him sweat alone, the waiter floats off to get the wine and Lizard checks his phone. After twelve fruitless looks, an envelope finally shows on his screen.

The message he opens at first makes him frown then Lizard yanks the phone to his chest before anyone noses over to see. Slowly, he casts his eyes down again at the text from Light. What seemed to be taking his boyfriend a while was a nude photograph in a bathroom stall—pants to his knees and sweater yanked up between his teeth, his cock peeking from his neat trimmed cunt. Lizard’s cheeks heat and he fumbles when the waiter arrives with wine.

“Ah yes,” he says, shoving his phone away but missing his pocket every time. “Thank you. Perfect.”

“Are you ready to order?” A blank pleasantness rounds out the waiter’s tone and Lizard wonders how many times this waiter has seen a man panic over erotic texts. They’ve come to the restaurant a few times because Light enjoys the desserts and could probably order without menus. Still, Lizard laughs and rubs his neck, play-acting indecision.

“Oh, not sure yet.” He laughs again. “A few more minutes, please. My boyfriend will be back soon.”

Without even a flicker of emotion, the waiter nods and leaves. Lizard yanks out his phone and types, his fingers stuttering every time he glances at the photo again. God, Light looks good. His stomach tightens as he traces the digital curve of Light’s mouth full of fabric, imaging those lips around other intimate things. But he can’t bring himself to text an innuendo back. After a month of true dating—exclusive, no closets or girlfriends to hide in—he still doesn’t know where Light’s line is. In their bed and when they’re alone, he’s affectionate but shies from receiving affection. He does the same while in public and freezes when Lizard grabs for his hand or kisses his cheek on the train. It’s not the worst emotional place Lizard’s lived in, even with a boyfriend, and he can’t stop himself from loving Light or wanting him.

_Are you alright?_

Lizard exhales as the text sends. Nothing too provocative or over-sensitive either. Just the truth of how he feels—concerned about whatever the fuck Light’s doing. The response comes back a moment later and widens Lizard’s eyes. It’s another photo, this one a close up of Light pressing what appears to be one of his smaller vibrators inside himself. Another text appears after it ( _about to be very good_ ) and Lizard has barely read it before the chair across from him pulls out and Light sits, flushed and grinning.

He drops his hand on the table and slides it to Lizard. When he turns it, there’s a small blue clicker in his palm that, Lizard knows, connects to the same vibrator housed in Light right now.

To say he’s confused would be a misunderstanding of the rolling emotions inside him: Lizard is frustrated. “We’re in public, you know,” he says. “What are you doing right now?”

“Here,” Light gestures with the clicker. “Take it.”

Lizard swipes the clicker, but frowns. He doesn’t like this. Whatever sensual property the situation has doesn’t overcome the bad taste in his mouth from the manic shine in Light’s eyes. When the waiter comes back, asking if they’ve decided, Lizard cuts Light off and tells the waiter they’ll just have the wine. Protest is muffled by his disappointed expression and quick, “I’m not hungry.”

The waiter, smiling through disgruntled eyes, leaves to get the check and Light turns an equally disappointed look toward Lizard. “What was that?” He pours his wine glass a quarter-full and sips before continuing. “I thought we were celebrating our anniversary but you’re not hungry now.”

“I’m upset with you,” Lizard says. “How can you send me that from the bathroom? Anyone could have seen you.”

“I didn’t know you were so uptight. It’s just a bit of fun.”

A twitch of the lips when Light crosses his legs makes his wine glass dribble a little red on the table. Lizard shakes his head, rolling the clicker in his palm and not missing the way Light watches the movement.

“You already turned it on, didn’t you?” Lizard waits for the sour nod Light gives him and sighs. “I bet you’re having fun, taking all those nude pictures and putting toys inside yourself. I wonder where that free spirit is when you won’t hold my hand in public.”

Light chokes, his hands trembling as Lizard presses the clicker twice. “That’s not the s-same,” he says. “You’re not playing fair.”

“I’m not playing. Are you?” Lizard flips the clicker around again, rubbing his thumb over the button while sweat forms at Light’s temples. He always sweats there first. “Is this a game to you?”

When Light doesn’t answer, Lizard clicks the button and can almost hear the buzz go up. Another little groan forces out of Light and he re-crosses his legs, hands shoved in his lap. Pink prickles over his cheeks while his eyes grow glassy.

“Lizard,” he huffs. “No more, okay?”

“Can you answer me?” Setting down the clicker, Lizard pushes it away and pours his own wine. He doesn’t drink any but he can’t leave his hands with nothing to do. “Is our relationship a game, Light? Because if it is, I don’t know the rules. You have to tell me.”

Light’s breathing sounds labored but Lizard knows it’s only him gasping as he rocks into the vibrations. The sound is familiar and he is unhappy it’s being shared with the restaurant. A table near them gives them both uncomfortable glances but Lizard doesn’t care. He stares only at Light, who in turn looks only at him. His lip trapped between his teeth looks too much like his sweater in the nude picture and Lizard swears under his breath.

“I don’t know.” Light sounds near genuine, but too close to placating to be sure. “I’m just trying.”

“Trying what?”

“To be fun?” Light shakes his head. “I don’t know. Isn’t it sexy, you know, to have control? To play with who gets what?”

“Who have you been with that makes you think this kind of control is good?” Lizard turned over the clicker and opened it, shaking out the batteries. “You never said anything to me before we got here about this sort of thing. How do I react when you just surprise me with something so intimate in public?”

“You don’t like it?” Breathless as though he’s run a mile, Light stares at Lizard with searching eyes. He’s solving, endlessly solving, but Lizard doesn’t think he’s much of a puzzle.

“I don’t know if I like it. What I know is that most of the time you won’t let me kiss when others are around or hold your hand. You still call me your friend to your parents and sister. And tonight, on our anniversary, you spent ten minutes of our date in the bathroom taking nude pictures without letting me know beforehand and then expected me to just play along after months of this being to opposite of what you want.”

Quiet settles over both of them. Lizard realizes he’s never talked for so long and blushes. He runs a hand through his hair, sips some wine and stares at his empty place setting. If only he hadn’t said he wasn’t hungry. Now he’s starving just for distraction. Light is just as silent and, when Lizard peeks at his expression, looks even more embarrassed. Nothing about the downward tilt of his mouth makes Lizard feel happy, even though it’d be justifiable.

“I’m sorry.” Light speaks in a soft voice, hands knotted in front of him. It’s the same voice he uses to coax Lizard’s cat, Akira, from under the couch when he gets frightened by a loud noise. Lizard treasures this voice—how it’s gentle where Light usually talks with a sword under his tone, how it makes Akira purr and trust him.

Clearing his throat, Light keeps talking in his coaxing tone. “I’m really don’t know what to do.” He folds his head in his hands, rubs his face and hums. “You’re the first person I’ve ever been with that I’ve enjoyed being with.” A pause and he amends his statement. “The first that I’ve been with for so long, I guess. Everyone else I either didn’t care about or wanted to, um, play games. And that’s thrilling, you know? I like how they make me feel excited.”

“I want you to feel excited.” Lizard can’t help his hand leaping to cover Light’s and tug it from his face. “Please. I’m not against these sorts of things. That sort of thing, like sexy pictures and a little power dynamic play, is fun and you’re a person I want to explore that with.” He rubs his thumb against Light’s wrist and their eyes meet, flashing in mutual interest. “But you can’t do them without telling me what you’re planning. Whatever games people played with you before, don’t play them with me. Just tell me what you want and be honest.”

“Honest?” The implicit surprise in Light’s voice startles a laugh out of Lizard. “What? What’s so funny?”

Lizard laughs again and shakes his head. “Yes, I want you to be honest,” he says. “How do you think relationships work, huh? Just surprise, surprise until you die?”

Light takes a second too long to join Lizard’s laughter but he tries not to notice. Instead, Lizard takes the fallen batteries and places them back in. His eyes don’t leave Light’s as he does and a shiver rattles his boyfriend’s frame.

“Let’s try again.” Lizard ghosts his thumb across the clicker button. “Are you ready?”

Before Light finishes his nod, Lizard presses the button. Maybe it’s a little revenge but the smile that curls up Light’s face says that the satisfaction is mutual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you don't leave a comment, Lizard will come to your home and make you face your deep-seated relationship issues. altho tbh that might actually be cool so its up to you.


	19. beyondlight "stuffed animals/bookshop au"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light works at Beyond's bookstore, they kissed, and now, Light is going to see Beyond's stuffed animal collection.

Light had to admit that a week prior to kissing Beyond, he wouldn’t have thought them a hang-out type couple. He imagined calling infrequently, kissing after his shift ended in the erotic novels section, and Beyond continuing to resent having hired him in a habitual passive-aggressive flirtation that never progressed. Instead, as Light closed the store down and prepared to go back to his dorm, Beyond invited him upstairs.

One thing Beyond mentioned in repeated prideful crows was his ownership of the bookstore’s building, which was two floors. Light assumed the second floor was more storage, as even the backroom hardly contained half the purchases the trade-in desk received. Through that same cloistered backroom, Beyond led Light by the hand to a set of stairs blocked off with a flimsy metal chain. A sign, written in familiar scribble, told guests and employees not to enter. Beyond winked as he unhooked the chain, letting it fall and sway as he took the first step and tugged Light along.

“C’mon,” he said. “It’s late. Spend the night. Isn’t that what they say in movies?”

“I don’t know.” Light slipped his hand from Beyond, grabbing hold of the rickety railing as they ascended through a hole cut in the ceiling. “We don’t watch the same movies.”

He peeped his head through the hole after Beyond disappeared through it and got his first look at the studio above the bookstore. Light was taken aback to have such knowledge implanted alongside the spot in his brain reserved for the familiar clutch of the bookstore. When he was thirteen, his mother’s sock fell down while she was grocery shopping with him. Grey fabric pressed down into her shoe and revealed a small tattoo of a skull previously unseen by Light. The shock of the familiar being unfamiliar rattled in him in the same way then as it did now.

Beyond grabbed his hand again and yanked Light’s startled body into the still dark studio. Whatever illumination the place received came only from the moon spilled through a single double-paned window facing the college campus. As Light wandered toward that window, marveling at the courtyard’s well gardened hedges, Beyond flicked on first a tiffany lamp, and then the ceiling light. At once the studio’s many fixtures and appendages were bathed in butter yellow, all blue shadow chased underneath a lumpy couch.

It became clear to Light that the studio was actually a small garret pressed into a triangle like two hands in mock-prayer. He stood in the living room on a stained ornamental rug thrown over some reddish wood flooring that matched the support beams above them as well as, in his recollection, the construction of the bookstore. Various armamentarium—textbooks in assorted volumes and fields with none matching, several tools strewn in useless configurations and an oddly numerous accumulation of stuffed animals on the couch—competed for his attention along with the man hemming and hawing to Light’s side.

“Do you want anything?” Beyond spoke at the nervous volume of an unpracticed, but eager host. “I’ve got tea, if you’re thirsty. Not really much water, except for tap, but there’s a mineral water somewhere.” He left to fumble around the kitchenette, fridge door swung open and its paltry contents half-displayed. “Or are you hungry? I know you took a dinner break so probably not. Would cake be attractive to you?”

Light turned around the room, assessing the amount of _things_ Beyond stuffed into the space. “Why do you have so many literacy posters?” Light pointed at a particularly aged poster of Alf, cat in one hand and a book on cat-cookery in the other, which demanded children read a book. “Oh, also, no thank you for cake. Whatever they served me at the corner store upset my stomach. The tea sounds good.”

“You shouldn’t go to _that_ corner store.” Beyond shut the fridge and turned on the electric kettle, flicking around in a hanging cabinet until he gathered a white teacup, a battered green tin and a plastic package of sugar cubes. “They’ve got the worst sandwiches that they always serve to the university kids. Go to the one a block over. Mello works part-time there, and if you’re nice, he’ll make you whatever boxed lunch you want.” The green tin opened and let out a potent perfume of peppermint tea. “Actually, he’s pretty skilled at making food in general. Don’t tell him I said that, okay?”

“Why not?” Half-listening to Beyond’s kitchen antics, Light walked over to the bookshelves, squat and tall, that lined the compartment walls. Were this not the shabby dwellings of his manager nee kissing partner, Light would call the room a study for how full it was of literary accouterments. He thumbed over a worn copy of _A Wrinkle in Time,_ fingernail sticking on a label across the spine’s bottom that read “Property of A.” Before he could read whatever came after the letter A, the kettle’s piercing whistle pulled Light’s attention back to Beyond.

Two cups in front of him held triangle teabags that Beyond rearranged gingerly. He glanced behind his shoulder at Light, flashing uncomfortable smiles that reeked of satisfaction with what he saw. Instead of repulsion—Light’s usual reaction to the sight of another person’s contentment—warmth pulsed from Light’s chest through his torso when he met Beyond’s eyes. Being the subject of an emotion didn’t, for once, feel like nausea.

“Any sugar?” Beyond poured hot water into both cups, a little sloshing off the rim. “I take about three, but that’s just habit. Back where I grew up, I got in trouble because I stole too many sugar cubes once.”

“I’ll have one cube.” Light examined the couch and its occupants—several brown furred teddy bears all subtly enhanced by carnivorous sets of fanged teeth. He gently set aside a bear in a blue sailor hat and took its place. “Who gave you these teddy bears? Are they, like, joke presents?”

Tea steam misted over Beyond’s confused expression as he brought Light his cup. “I bought those myself,” he said as Light took the cup, settling back with it perched on his palm. “Do you think they’re ugly, or something?”

Desperation had a particular shrill ring to any sentence it infected and so Light knew what he heard in Beyond’s voice wasn’t desperation. Whatever filled the words he said was indeterminately soft-bellied and unhappy, as though predisposed with knowledge that Light would pierce that now exposed vulnerability with another comment on the stupid bears. Silently, Light watched Beyond move the teddies into a comfortable stack and take his place by them, adjusting one’s pink bow before hesitantly patting its head. He wondered how long these bears had been on the couch, and who else had seen them. He wondered if it occurred to Beyond that this was a strange thing to have, or if his bald sense of enjoyment made him immune to the idea that one couldn’t have everything they liked if those things were stuffed animals with full dental insertions.

Light sipped the tea and peppermint simpered down through his body to calm his troubled stomach. “No,” he said. “I don’t think they’re ugly.” He took another sip and patted the sailor hatted bear he displaced. “They’re just like you. Very strange. More than I expected.”

Beyond nodded, his sipping a solemn motion. “Bears can surprise you,” he said. “But surprise aren’t always so bad, I don’t think. I was surprised how much I needed to hire you.” He didn’t hide his staring at Light, who turned his gaze from Beyond as heat flushed his cheeks. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know that embarrassed you or anything.”

“Shut up,” Light snapped. “You did too know.” Shaking his head, he set the cup in his lap and picked at a hangnail. A smile, uncalled for but unstoppable, snuck over his lips. “I don’t mind surprises either. Why do you think I kissed you back?”

“Because I’m the smartest man you know,” Beyond said and received an entire teddy bear thrown in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi. i hope you enjoyed the fic! if you want to know anything about the AU here, please let me know in a comment and I'll let u know! thanks!


	20. light/mikami "finding out your significant other is a monster"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light, as a vampire, has to feed on Mikami's blood

Mikami doesn’t think very hard about the blood; he isn’t a person who believes his own body to be holy. Some people do, and their sacred bodies are their business, but Mikami isn’t thinking about the blood as his loss. What he thinks of is the new budget sheet that his left hand sketches out while his right arm lays across the oak desk, an IV taped to his elbow and crimson silk siphoning out a tube into little bags. These bags are shaped like meal replacement packages; oh the cleverness of God to make his blood appear so mundane.

On the couch is God, fingers fidgeting with a loose button down sleeve. All his clothes after the attack have been wider, like petals floating just around his figure, and he says his skin is too sensitive for tight fabric. Every part of God feels at a degree beyond humanity and for that, Mikami is both remorseful for his Kira and also joyous. Strength in all senses is what a man wants from his ruler, even if now the ruler gains strength from blood alone.

Between writing, Mikami flips his gaze from paper to God’s recline on the couch: he sees him in snapshots; a sinewy throat bearing two parallel scars, a strong jaw, the waist of a ballet performer. Mikami remembers first meeting God in the yellow warehouse and thoughts of dancers who appeared slim for no other reason than their skin only contained muscle. It was a body of efficiency. Brown hair falls limp on his cheeks when God turns his face toward Mikami and his eyes sink, weighed down by hunger.

He watches the blood flow out of Mikami. He licks his lips. Do the actions make God a monster? Mikami doesn’t think so. With a quick pen mark, he denotes a subtraction from office cafeteria supplies. Fancy food isn’t a requirement. With only ink scratches as music for them, he wonders if God is bored or just absent. Nothing has been said between them for an hour; a man wants conversation with God.

“Have you ever seen ballet?” Mikami asks. “Performed it?”

“No.” God’s voice, although raspy, is winsome and he smiles despite his pallid complexion. “My sister wanted to be a dancer when she was younger, but I didn’t think it was quite for me. I played tennis.”

“Ah,” Mikami nods. “Athletic.”

“In a way.” God folds his hands on his stomach, eyes on the IV and throat jumping each swallow. “I quit after junior league. No more challenge to it. You go to the gym often, don’t you?”

Dizziness laps at his mind’s edge but abates as Mikami shakes his head. “Yes,” he says. “When you’re well, I’ll take you. Show you my routine.” He doesn’t quell his heart’s flutter when suggesting to God they exercise together. “You’ll be an excellent gym partner.”

“Much experience with gym partners?” God lifts his thumb to his bared teeth—a flash of fang before his lips purse—and chews a hangnail.

“Some,” Mikami says. “Not many.”

Silence blankets them again with only the wet whine of God’s chewing left to fill the room. Mikami marks an addition to envelope supply—they’ve been contacted by foreign companies interested in the legal details of Kira’s rule; letters need to be sent. His line goes crooked at a loud, powerful moan from God, who clutches his stomach and bends into himself. Keening grunts and unhappiness grow as God ripples through pained convulsions. Mikami rockets to his feet, but is held to his desk by the IV.

God tilts his head, his face sideways and chin pointed at Mikami. His neck is a soft bridge; his mouth corners pull out, show all his teeth including those spindle-like fangs, and split his expression into hungry eyes above, tortured jaw beneath.

“Teru,” he whines. “I can’t wait.”

Couch tumbling away in a clatter, God shoves himself toward the desk and it too crumples under his knees as he propels into it. Mikami holds the edge, stays in his shoulder-width stance, and now God and he stare into each other’s eyes. He doesn’t look, but drool dribbles from God’s mouth. Their gazes both trail to the IV’s sluggish dredge and Mikami lays his hand over the tape holding down the needle.

“Is this what you need?” He slowly peels away the tape, a prickling pain following the release, and tosses it away. “You’re hungry,” Mikami says, his fingers a gentle tug that pulls the needle from his skin as God’s golden stare darts from steel to flesh. “Don’t wait. It’s yours.”

Blood spurts from his now-unprotected puncture and God drops his mouth to it. First, he licks the wound in long, languid gasps at odds with his frantic hands pushing Mikami’s arm closer to his face. Then, his lips seal around the skin and in a magnificent expression of bliss, God  _sucks_ loose whatever blood he can. Some red pools at lip corners, makes tiny icicle drips on the paling skin, but Mikami doesn’t think of the blood. His thoughts scamper and pirouette over God’s shut eyes with lashes fanned over his cheeks, God’s tight fingers on his bicep that nearly crush the muscle, and God himself mewling through his consumption. He hesitates before carding a nervous hand through the brown hair, which grows fuller, shinier as blood leaves Mikami’s body and flushes God through, becoming in his use something new; a holy restoration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please lemme know in a comment if you enjoyed the fic!


	21. kiyomi/misa "a kiss during Spin the Bottle that means more than it should"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiyomi's mind wanders during a forced kiss from Misa

Wax peeled off her lips and onto Kiyomi’s, the strong inhuman taste seeping in. Misa, although she stood a head shorter, dominated the air, the space and left no room for anything but her smashed together mouth. Kiyomi leaned an inch forward, and tasted more cheap lipstick: Yotsuba brand, still. Didn’t the woman buy her own makeup? With her hands hot and curled into the short dark hair, Misa yanked Kiyomi in further to her childish performance of a kiss.

Light yawned in a long, loud noise while other party guests made amused noises. Two girls kissing, huh? What a thrill this Spin the Bottle always seemed. Kiyomi’s hands stumbled in attempts at dignified placements but stopped and held still in her lap. Nothing would save the indiginity of a dare placed kiss with her sometimes-boyfriend’s secret girlfriend.

Eyes squeezed shut, she thought about anything except the long fingernails caught in her skirt fabric; she thought about Light’s laugh—not at her joke, but someone else’s, since Kiyomi didn’t tell jokes he liked. Another thought landed on a woman who sat next to her in journalism ethics: Saki, who smelled like citrus and soap, wore dark jeans with men’s button downs and told her funny stories when the professor was late. She always understood Saki’s jokes where Light’s often left her out of step compared to that boy who trailed beside her sometimes-boyfriend: a boy with an actor’s name, she thought, without an actor-like charm. Somehow that thin figure rattled more laughter out of Light than she could, but oh well. It wasn’t like either of them were as funny as Saki.

Misa, who insisted that a kiss dare last at least a minute when she still eyed Light for her partner, carried a berry smell—strong enough for Kiyomi to suspect it was sprayed only on her wrists—and her own dress rubbed itchy on bare skin. In increments, she shoved the fabric away and considered this the longest minute in history.

Peeking an eye open, Kiyomi noticed the midnight blue color and wondered if Light liked blue on girls. Certainly, she liked it—when Saki wore her blue flower button-down, Kiyomi couldn’t keep her eyes away. She complimented the woman on their study lunches, going over reports and forgetting who ordered which coffee so when they reached for their cup, fingers touched and deep, unsettling pleasure fizzled in her hands the next hour on. Blue was beautiful on her classmate, who always told Kiyomi how perfect she looked in red. Their hands lingered over each other’s while laughing over the coffee mix-up:  _How funny,_ they’d say.  _We just keep forgetting._

 _Women must care a lot about color,_ she could hear Light say, or even her own father, who had so much to say about what women cared about.  _Fashion and stuff like that is such a concern for you girls._

When Misa pulled away, the physical sensation of her lipstick smearing over Kiyomi’s cheek was a brand. Fat blonde sausage curls gathered in two ponytails jostled as the other woman laughed along with a few drunk guys next to her, hand pressed to her chest like a private school snob. Kiyomi glanced around, saw a Light shaped hole in the circle and found him in a dark corner, further away, with his head tucked against the skinny boy. With the back of her hand, she wiped off the waxy remains of Misa and stumbled to her feet. Through the small party room streamed woman after woman—in blue, in red, in jeans, long and short haired—with their eyes brightened by alcohol. She caught, at the tail of a taller man, a flash of Saki’s blue flowers and split from the circle. Misa, her voice filtered through so many wine glasses, shouted after her.

“Oooh!” Misa yelped. “Miss To-Oh got bested by Misa-Misa’s kissing, huh? Can’t take on anyone else?”

Kiyomi closed her eyes. She shut out the circle; she listened for Saki’s laugh and followed that instead.

**Author's Note:**

> you love this stuff? you enjoy my works? then come follow [my blog](http://translightyagami.tumblr.com)! it's great!


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